#sunshine fanfic

[mugglebornmarvelite]

Game Night

Paring: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: Steve’s mandatory game night takes a turn when you and Bucky are paired up.

Word Count: Roughly 1.4k 

Warnings: Fluff, banter, friendly competition, implied threats, destroying property (Bucky and Sam), romantic tension everyone can feel, and some overprotective Bucky because that man does not play about his sunshine.

Author’s Note: Sorry for the delay; I was helping my friend with a research project. Ugh, it feels choppy, but I hope this is to your liking, babes ;)

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Divider by: @strangergraphics

The living room buzzed with energy as the Avengers tried to recover from the chaos of their most recent mission; the munching of chips and clinking of drinks in glasses filled the space.

Peter and you were talking animatedly about the mission, with Peter recounting how he flipped mid-air, webbing a bad guy to a nearby wall.

“I mean, I swear, the guy didn’t see it coming. I was way higher up than I thought, and then BAM!” Peter dramatically mimicked the motion with his arms, sending you into fits of laughter.

“It’s honestly kind of unfair that you can just flip your way out of everything, Pete,” you teased, elbowing him.

He shrugged, all smugness. “I mean, someone’s gotta make the web-swinging look good, right?”

Before you could reply, Steve stood up from his spot, clapping his hands for attention. “Alright, team! Time for some mandatory bonding!”

A chorus of groans erupted from the group, each one from someone hoping to escape Steve’s relentless enthusiasm for ‘team-building’ nights.

“Tonight is Charades.” Steve declared.

That’s when Steve decided to assign the partners. He glanced around the room with a twinkle in his eye and paired you with Bucky, clearly anticipating the fun to come.

You gave Bucky your signature puppy dog eyes, and he looked away with a scowl as he crossed his arms over his chest, not wanting to give in and show that he was happy to be partnered with you.

“Oh, great,” Bucky muttered, rolling his eyes. “This is gonna be a disaster.”

You didn’t let his grumpiness throw you off. “Bucky, come on!” you said, plopping beside him on the couch. “We’ve got this! We’re unstoppable!”

Bucky raised an eyebrow and shot you a skeptical look. “Sure, sure. We’ll see about that.”

He didn’t seem convinced, and as Sam overheard, he couldn’t resist adding his two cents.

"Oh, this is gonna be easy," Sam declared loudly, rolling his eyes. "Grumpy Barnes can’t even smile, let alone act."

"You’re gonna regret that," Bucky shot back, his tone thick with warning. 

His words weren’t loud, but they were laced with enough warning that Sam quickly leaned back into his seat, hands raised in mock surrender.

"Okay, okay, I get it," Sam laughed, but you caught the wariness in his eyes. "But not holding my breath, this will be easy."

Then, leaning in toward you, he whispered, “If we lose to that clown, I’m never letting it go.”

You gave him an exaggerated look of disbelief, pretending to be shocked. "Who knew you cared so much about winning?"

Bucky’s lips quirked into the faintest smirk. "Don’t mess this up," he teased.

You winked at him. “You’re with me. How could we lose?”

As the game started, it quickly became clear that Bucky treated charades less like a fun group activity and more like a tactical mission. His intense focus was almost comical, but you fell into an unspoken rhythm. 

When it was your turn to act, Bucky’s sharp eyes locked onto you, and after a few gestures, he almost always guessed your clues. When it was his turn, he leaned into the ridiculousness of it all, whether miming a gorilla or pretending to be a ballerina, just to keep your laughter ringing through the room.

By the end of the game, the scoreboard showed a landslide victory in your favor. Bucky allowed himself a small, smug grin as you squealed in delight and launched yourself into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“We’re the dream team!” you exclaimed, giggling as you clung to him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, though his grip on you was secure, his metal arm effortlessly supporting you. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Much to everyone's amusement, he carried you back to the couch, where he promptly plopped you into his lap. “You’re comfy,” you declared with a grin, making yourself home. 

Sam, clearly displeased, waved a hand in your direction. “This has to be rigged. There’s no way those two didn’t cheat.”

Natasha snorted, leaning back in her chair. “They didn’t cheat, Wilson. They’re just disgustingly in sync.”

Sam grabbed a pillow and chucked it at you. “Sync this!”

The pillow hit you square in the face, and you burst out laughing, holding it in your lap. “It’s just a pillow!”

But Bucky didn’t see it that way. His gaze turned sharp as he caught the second pillow Sam threw mid-air. “If you throw another one at her...”

Sam, of course, took that as a challenge. “What are you gonna do, Barnes?” he quipped, hurling another pillow that you easily dodged.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll give you a five-second head start.”

Sam’s smirk faltered. “Wait, what?”

Without a word, Bucky carefully brushed your hair out of your face, placed you gently on the couch, and stood up. The room went silent as he walked purposefully toward the hallway. 

“What’s he doing?” you asked, looking to Steve for answers.

Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, hiding a smile. “He’s going to smash Redwing.”

Sam’s eyes widened in panic. 

“Barnes, you touch Redwing, I swear-” He bolted after Bucky, and the two disappeared down the hall. 

Moments later, a loud crash echoed through the compound, followed by Sam’s yelling and Bucky’s retorts.

Natasha chuckled, shaking her head as she leaned back on the couch. “This happens all the time.”

You glanced between her and Steve, bewildered. “Doesn’t anyone stop them?”

Steve shrugged. “Nope. They’ll tire themselves out eventually.”

From a distance, the team could hear the muffled sounds of Bucky and Sam bickering echoing through the compound. 

“Touch Redwing, and you’re paying for a whole new one!” Sam’s voice was laced with fear.

“Oh, don’t worry, Wilson,” Bucky shot back, his tone mockingly calm. “I’ll make sure to recycle the pieces. I hear it’s good for the environment.”

A loud thud followed as if Bucky had knocked something over or thrown something against the wall. 

“Man, what is your problem?” Sam hollered. “You act like I threw a brick at her!”

“You hit her in the face!” Bucky retorted.

“It was a pillow!” Sam defended himself. “It probably felt like a marshmallow.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bucky countered. “You don’t throw things at her. Ever.”

Back in the living room, you stifled a laugh as Natasha shook her head in amused disbelief. “It’s always like this,” she said, smirking. “I don’t know why Sam keeps testing him.”

Steve folded his arms, looking like the exasperated dad of the group. “Because Sam likes pushing buttons. And Bucky…well, Bucky only has so much patience.”

Another crash echoed from down the hallway, followed by Sam’s yell. “Oh, come on! That wasn’t even Redwing! That was my lamp!”

“You’ve got terrible taste in decor, Wilson,” Bucky said, completely unfazed.

“YOU OWE ME A NEW LAMP!” Sam shouted.

“I did you a favor.” Bucky said dryly. “So say ‘thank you,’ it's polite.”

You couldn’t hold back your giggles any longer. “Should we...I don’t know, step in?” you asked, looking at Steve.

Steve shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Nah. Let them hash it out. Bucky’s not actually going to break Redwing. Probably.”

“Probably?” Natasha echoed. “You’re really putting a lot of faith in him.”

From the hallway, Sam yelled again. “THAT’S IT, BARNES. YOU AND ME. SPARRING MATCH TOMORROW.”

“Fine,” Bucky fired back. “But don’t be mad when I wipe the floor with you, bird brain.”

Natasha leaned over to you, her voice low. “You know he’s only this protective because it’s you, right? He doesn’t care this much when we get hit with stuff.”

You blushed, glancing down at your hands. “He’s just…looking out for me. Like a guardian.”

Natasha snorted. “Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

Steve smiled knowingly but didn’t say anything. 

The sounds of Sam and Bucky’s argument gradually faded as they came back.

Sam was glaring, his hair disheveled, and he muttered under his breath about never forgiving Bucky. 

Bucky, on the other hand, was smug, like he had just won a personal victory.

Sam threw himself back down on the couch, muttering something about "not talking to Barnes for the rest of the week," to which Bucky gave a half-hearted shrug.

He sat down beside you, his arm casually draped across the back of the couch. His eyes flicked down to you, and without a word, he reached out to brush his knuckles lightly over your knee.

“You okay, sunshine?” he asked quietly, only for you to hear.

You smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Bucky’s lips quirked upward, just slightly. “Good,” he said softly. “No one messes with you. Not even Sam.”

The others shared amused looks, but neither of you paid them any mind. Bucky’s protective side made your heart flutter in a way you didn’t quite understand, and you sank further into the couch, curling into his side.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @princess-lil-spidey @sapphirebarnes @mgchaser @sparklystarsandstrawberries @arcadia-smith @rnurse-kole @juliebluehufflepuff @sailorsenshiuranep @alexxavicry @ficcharsimp

If you'd like to be added to my taglist or just ask me, and I'll update it!

Much love x

- Maeve

[happy74827]

Feels Like Home

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You decide to take it upon yourself to become best friends with Wade’s new grumpy addition to the family (much to Logan’s dismay).

WC: 2453

Category: Fluff, Sunshine!Reader x Grumpy!Logan trope {TW: Bar Fight, Handsy Drunk Dude, Mentions of Blood + Bruising}.

[Dedicated to: @iluvloganhowlett] I finished it for you!! (I’m shocked at the speed too don’t worry 💀). Hopefully this fluffiness will help add onto the low supply out there.

And incase anyone hasn’t seen it yet: DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

『••✎••』

You’ve always had a keen eye when it came to others. It’s mostly why you and Wade get along so well; you’re the one person who can see straight through him. And while it means you are very close, it also meant that you can easily tell when something is going on with someone you don't know that well, like the tall, brooding man named Logan, who had just joined the club of misfits.

You could tell by the way he carried himself that he had been through hell and back. He was quiet, grumpy, and had a tendency to snap at Wade, which, most of the time, was a well-deserved snapping.

You could also tell that there was more to him. He wasn't just a grumpy guy; there was something about him that made you want to be his friend. Maybe it was the sadness in his eyes, or maybe it was how lonely he looked.

Either way, you knew he was in need of a good friend, and you wanted to be that friend. Not a pestering one like Wade, but the kind of friend that just makes you feel a bit better.

So, when you spotted him, downing glass after glass of whiskey for the third day in a row, you just knew you had to help.

And he hated it. Oh, man, he absolutely hated it. You were such a happy ray of sunshine, always smiling, always laughing. He found it so fucking annoying. He couldn't deal with you and your constant positivity. It was like you were the PG-13 version of the breathing ballsack next to you.

But you wouldn't give up. Every time you saw him, you would try to cheer him up by making silly jokes, giving him small gifts, or even just sending him encouraging smiles.

He didn't want any of it, but it seemed you were too stubborn to listen. Every small note you’d given him was left crinkled in the trash; every gift was placed away without ever being touched. Your smile never got a response.

That is, until one day, as you walked by him, he mumbled something that almost made you trip over.

"Thanks."

You stopped in your tracks and turned around to face him, a look of disbelief on your face. You had tried so hard to cheer him up for the past few weeks, and this was the only thing you got from him? You couldn't believe it.

You had spent so much time and effort trying to make him feel better, and this was all he could say to you?

You wanted to hug him. To scream to the skies and celebrate that he finally accepted your kindness.

You held the restraint to do so, though. You didn’t want to cause him to close off again, and so instead, you sent him a soft smile, and a small nod, before you resumed walking (running) to your friends.

The next day, however, you were met with the biggest surprise of your life.

Logan was sitting at the bar, drinking. He didn't look too different, still dressed in his trademark blue jeans and flannel shirt, but his face was still holding that sadness you had grown used to seeing on him.

You walked over to him and sat down beside him, that classic smile of yours plastered on your face.

"Hi!"

He groaned. "You're not going to leave me alone, are you?"

"Nope!" You replied cheerfully, popping the 'p.'

He grumbled under his breath and downed the last of his drink, signaling to the bartender for another.

"Come on, Wolvie," you said, nudging his shoulder. "Lighten up. Life's not that bad, is it?"

He turned to glare at you, his dark brown eyes piercing into yours. "It's Logan," he said, his voice a low growl.

You shrugged and leaned closer to him, propping your elbow on the counter. This was the usual part—the part where he would give vocal responses while you carried on your one-sided conversation with him.

The difference this time, the surprise of it all, was when a person approached the both of you. Mind you, a very drunk person.

"Heyyyyy, baby girl," he slurred, his hand landing on your shoulder.

You turned to him, and he was looking you up and down with that gaze you knew had only one intention. You still smiled, though, and politely moved his hand off your shoulder.

"Uh, hi?" You answered unsurely.

He slammed his elbow on the counter, his palm on his fist. "You are gorgeous," he commented, and you had to hold back the laughter that was bubbling in your throat.

"Thank you," you chuckled.

Logan scoffed, rolling his eyes, but you paid him no mind. Usual behavior from him, nothing new.

"No, really," the stranger continued, moving his arm around your shoulders, "I think you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Well, I'm glad you think so," you answered, still chuckling. "But, I think you're a little drunk."

"Drunk on love," he responded, "Say, wanna get out of here? I'll show you a real good time."

Here comes the awkward part, you thought.

You shook your head, and removed his arm from around your shoulders. "Thank you for… uh, the kind offer," you answered, "But, no, thank you."

You expected him to shrug it off and leave or to just be a dick, as many drunken guys are. But no, this guy did not know how to take a hint.

Instead, he tightened his grip around you and pulled you closer to him, his free hand moving down your waist. "Come on, baby," he said, his words slurring. "You know you want to."

You sighed. You were really hoping it wouldn't have to come to this.

You were about to speak, to politely, yet firmly, tell him to leave you alone, but before you could open your mouth, a gruff voice beat you to it.

"She said no,"

He didn’t even look at the man or you. His eyes were still fixated on the counter as if he was talking to his glass, but he had turned his head a bit to the side so that you could hear him clearly.

The drunk stranger was startled by the sudden intervention. He let go of you and looked over at Logan, confusion clear in his face.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked, his brows furrowed.

"Does it matter?" Logan grumbled.

"Yeah, it does," the stranger retorted, his slurring voice suddenly getting serious. "If I'm gonna be having fun, I don't want an audience."

Oh, how you hated confrontations.

Logan just scoffed with a slight hint of a smile, shaking his head as he still refused to turn around.

"Trust me, pal," he replied, "I ain't interested in watching you do anything."

"Good." He went back to his obnoxious grin, now directing his attention back to you. Oh, man, he was an eyesore.

"So, how about it, beautiful? Wanna head somewhere else?" He slurred.

You were about to reply, again, with a polite rejection, but your shoulder was being grabbed at again, and if it wasn’t for the small training session that Colossus had put you through, you were sure you would have lost your footing.

"Can you let go of me, please?" You asked politely, but the man was a brick wall.

"Nah, sweetheart," he shook his head, and the movement was so intense, you could almost hear the alcohol sloshing around in his head, "You're comin' with me. Trust me, you’ll be perfectly taken care of."

That was when the sound of glass slamming against the counter reached your ears, and you didn't have to see the source of the sound to know it was Mr. Grumps.

What you struggled for what seemed like an eternity, he took that needy arm away from your shoulders within a fraction of a second. It was almost shocking how quick he was, but then again, you knew what he was capable of.

With you safe against the counter, Logan turned to face the stranger, his face still showing that same neutral expression as before, though his eyes held an intensity that made the man flinch.

Normal people would believe he had the patience of a saint. But you weren’t a normal person. You knew this was dangerously close to making him lose it.

"Uh, Logan… maybe we should—"

But your words fell on deaf ears. The only thing that Logan could hear was the weak excuses the guy was trying to give as he tried to pull his hand from the tight grasp Logan had it in.

"Hey, man," he stuttered, his words slurring as the panic set in, "What’s your problem? Let go of me!

But Logan had no intentions of doing so. He held the stranger's arm firmly, his grip growing tighter until he could hear a small crack coming from the guy's bones.

"What's your damage, huh?" the guy continued, trying his best to keep his voice from breaking. "It's just a little fun, right, baby?"

You cringed as his eyes fell back onto you, and the pleading tone of his voice was beginning to make your skin crawl.

"Look, uh," you started, looking anywhere but his eyes, "I don't think—"

"Listen," the man continued, and your eyes fell shut. God, he was just not going to stop. "Maybe you can join us? Huh, big boy? That’s what it is, right? You want her all for yourself?"

Uh, oh.

"Logan, don’t—"

It was too late. He had already snapped, and with a grunt, he pulled the man closer to him, his other hand forming a fist around his shirt.

"Wanna say that again?" He growled. "Do it. I dare you."

The man was trembling in his grasp, but he was clearly too drunk to understand the danger he was in.

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you her boyfriend?" He taunted, and the fact that he had the guts to do so while his hand was in a painful hold was astonishing, even for you. "Or are you just some guy with a crush? Cause, honestly, it's pretty pathetic. You can't even ask her out."

His words had Logan seeing red, and before you could do anything, the guy was pushed away and was about to be on the receiving end of one of the strongest punches you've ever seen.

So, riskily, to protect yourself and him from being thrown out of his favorite place, you jumped off the stool and slid in between them as he launched his punch, just stopping inches away from your face.

"Please," you said, your palms up and in front of you, as if that would do anything to stop the rage he was feeling, "Please, calm down."

"Calm down?" He repeated, his voice rising. "Are you kidding me?"

"You need to let it go," you told him. "He's drunk, Logan. He doesn't know what he's saying."

"And, what," he retorted, his anger slowly fading away, "Does it look like I give a single fuck about that?"

You sighed, your eyes meeting his, and that was enough for him to finally give in. His clenched fist dropped, and he released a frustrated sigh.

The dude behind you started laughing, his voice sounding as if he was trying to make fun of a fight scene.

"So," he chuckled, "That's it, huh? You're not gonna do shit? You’re just as pathetic as a—"

He gently moved you aside, and in an instant, the man was lying on the floor with a bloody nose, a black eye, and a few broken ribs.

You could only hold your head in your hands, knowing very well the mess you were about to have to deal with.

And it didn't take long.

As soon as Logan stepped away from the drunk idiot, security was on him, grabbing his arms and restraining him. He couldn’t care less, though, as he held a sadistic grin on his face, pleased with his work while being escorted out.

And, so, there, the two of you were on the steps of the apartment building. You, holding your hands in your lap, and he, staring up at the night sky.

The air was warm, the city lights were dim, and the sky was covered in clouds. There was an odd silence between the two of you, which wasn’t really all that odd, but the events of the night had changed the atmosphere.

"Thanks," you spoke, breaking the quiet. "For, you know, standing up for me."

"He was a douche," he stated, his voice gruff. "Someone had to send that fucktart crying home to mommy."

"You shouldn’t have done that, though," you told him. "Now, you’re probably banned from the bar. I know it's your favorite."

"Eh," he shrugged, "Booze is booze. There are plenty more places to get drunk."

You didn't respond. Instead, you focused your attention on the small bugs flying around the dim light next to the door.

"You shouldn't be thanking me, anyway," he continued, turning to you. That was new. "I should be the one thanking you."

You looked at him, your brows furrowed. This whole conversation was getting weird. "Uh, what for?" You asked, confused.

"For putting up with me," he replied, shrugging.

"Putting up with you?" You repeated, not understanding. "I don't understand."

"Y'know," he continued, his gruff voice a little less gruff. "Sticking around. Being friendly. Having… patience. I can be…I can be a real dick. Honestly, I still don't get why you keep trying."

The smile that found its way to your lips waa the most genuine one he's ever seen. Your eyes were full of kindness and understanding, and your lips, which usually held a grin or a smirk, were turned upwards in a soft, gentle smile.

"Logan," you said, your voice low. "You may be a grump, and you might not be the friendliest guy, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve kindness. Everyone deserves that… or at least a little bit of it."

He scoffed. "That's funny," he replied, turning his head away.

You furrowed your brows and cocked your head, confused. "What is?" You asked.

"I used to think," he began, "That no one would ever look at me in the way you do. Not after what I’ve done… not after what I am."

"You're a good man, Logan," you told him. "You proved who you were when you willingly helped Wade."

"Maybe," he sighed, his gaze meeting yours. "But, there's still a lot you don't know about me. I'm not exactly a knight in shining armor."

"Oh, my dear, Wolvie," you said playfully, leaning closer to him and placing your palm on his shoulder, "You never were."

[paranoiddreams]

Sunshine 𖤓 [Masterlist]

summary — « Toji Fushiguro is just trying to raise his 6 year old son, Megumi, whilst living the dangerous life he was born into the best he can. He hasn’t felt a single ray of sunlight illuminate his dark world ever since his first love died while giving birth to their son. Toji only realizes that he is surviving rather than living when Megumi begins to act out, making him question everything from the past few years. But just when he starts believing his life couldn’t get even more complicated, a woman he least expects walks into his life and finally lets the sun in. »

tags/warnings — dad!toji, baby!megumi, fem!reader, strangers to friends to lovers, angst!!!, but an equal amount of fluff, eventual smut (not sure yet), explicit language, reader has daddy issues lol, mentions of parental loss, alcohol consumption, age gap (Toji’s 35, reader’s 24), anxiety, depression, Megumi and Toji are a mess but reader is an angel, assassin!Toji, Nanami adopted Nobara, Yuji lives with his grandpa and older brother!Sukuna […]

a/n — this is officially my first series hehe. It’s more self indulgent and light as I plan on releasing something else soon :3 pls enjoy this series of domestic fluff <3

Dedicated to those with daddy issues ~

— Chapters —

- Prologue -

1 . Spare Tire

2 . Runaway

3. Betty

Disclaimer! - Art/dividers are not mine!

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Every Part of You

Pairing - Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader A.N. - Alright, I've been asked to write about Bucky and Sunshine's first time many, many times. And the thing is, like sure, I could write that, but also I want us to take a moment to consider trying to build up to that. There's so many firsts buried in there that I think need to be navigated through before they even get there. This is one of those firsts. Like the first time you see Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Grumpy Sunshine Series

"You're just- " You stop speaking, searching for his lips again. Though you're breathless, you can't bring yourself to pull away from him, "You're so pretty."

You shudder as you feel his hand slip under your sweater. The occasional graze of the cool metal on your skin enough to send shivers down your spine.

His lips trail down, nipping at your jaw, "I'm not pretty."

Your hands, winded in the hair at the nape of his neck, glide down his neck, to clutch the fabric of his henley. The moment he feels your fingers toy with the collar of his shirt, his heart hammers against his ribcage. Not in the sort of way that he usually feels in these moments with you. He feels a sense of dread, of panic. It wraps around his spine like a python. It feels like he can't breathe.

"You're so -"

He wrenches away from you, his chest heaving, "Stop, stop, stop."

You freeze, immediately dropping your hands. Panic starts creeping up your throat, coating your words. "Did I - did I do something wrong?"

He gulps, silently shaking his head. It takes him a moment to regain his composure, to regain the ability to speak clearly, "No, no, you're - you're perfect."

Guilt starts to eat at him. He can see you doing your very best to keep your own feelings off your face. He can see the sting of his rejection in the way your lips press together in a tight line. The embarrassment in the pallor of your once flushed cheeks.

You two have worked so hard to overcome your own personal issues and traumas, to build trust in each other, moments like these hadn't come easy. And he so callously pushed you away, it makes him feel worse. And what makes his heart ache even more, he sees nothing but concern for him shining in your eyes. You just look so worried for him.

Your hands rest in your lap. You twist and untwist your fingers. "If you don't want to, we don't - we don't have to do anything. I'm really sorry -"

"No, no, please don't be sorry." He reaches for you, gently squeezing your hand. It soothes him as much as it does you. "I want to. You don't know how much I want to."

"But?"

His eyes squeeze shut. He can't bring himself to meet your eyes. "You haven't seen it before - my arm, my shoulder."

"Oh."

He drops your hand. That feeling takes over him again. It feels like there's not enough air in the room. He slides away from you, closer to the edge of the tiny couch in your apartment. "It's - I am not pretty."

It breaks your heart, watching him pull away from you. You can only imagine how many people have turned away from him before. "James..."

He fervently shakes his head, refusing to open his eyes, "No, no, I know what you're gonna say, but it's bad. A lot worse than you're thinking."

"How do you know what I'm thinking?"

"It's bad," he insists. "I see it every day and I can barely - it's just bad, okay?"

You take his hand, squeezing it tightly. "It's okay if you don't want me to see it. I understand."

He finally opens his eyes again as his eyebrows pull together. He still doesn't meet your eye. "No, no, I want to - I trust you with this, I do. I just - I want you to be prepared."

In that moment, you realize that it's not really about preparing you. Not at all.

He thinks you're going to react badly. He thinks that this will make you turn away from him for the first time ever. He's worried that the love and adoration in your eyes will turn to disgust and repulsion.

It's less about preparing you for the scarred flesh, and more about warning you that he couldn't take a bad reaction. He's not sure he could take it if you turned away from him too.

"I love you," you promise him. "There's nothing that you could show me that would change that. I hope you know that."

There is no response to that. And you know that he won't believe it until he sees it. It takes him a moment. His hand toys with the hem of his shirt. His hand grips the hem, only to let it go.

"I love you," you remind him.

He takes a large gulp of air, pulling off his shirt with one quick movement.

You weren't really sure what you were expecting. You knew the story. You knew how Bucky lost his arm. He even confided the bits and pieces he remembered from getting his vibranium arm.

Your eyes trail over his skin. The shoulder is scarred, scars jut in every direction. Each scar is etched into his skin. It's clear it was a painful, violent experience for him. The metal plate protrudes from the scar tissue in a way that you're sure was painful when first placed. You look on with curiosity, you're not really sure how this, a sign of survival, a badge of resilience, could ever make anyone turn away from him.

He's as breathtaking as you could ever imagine.

Your eyes flicker up at him. He looks at the blank wall of your apartment, scared to watch your facial expressions as you take it in. "Can I?"

He nods, barely able to look you in the eyes. He sucks in a breath when your fingers make contact with the scar tissue surrounding the metal plate.

You immediately pull your fingers back, worried you've accidentally hurt him. "Does it hurt?"

"No," he answers reflexively.

You know he's lying. "I've seen you holding your shoulder before - holding it like it hurts."

"Sometimes," he amends. "The doctor said there's a lot of nerve damage. Things they can't fix."

"Does it hurt now?"

"No."

You run your hand over the plate, over his scars, down to his shoulder blade.

"Still think I'm pretty?" he sarcastically remarks.

You press a gentle kiss to his bare shoulder. "I'll always think you're pretty. Every part of you."

Bucky Barnes Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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[suhtorus]

mall santa. ryomen sukuna

fluff‐parents au. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ non curse au, slice of life, mom!reader, unnamed three-year-old twins (boy and girl) + five-year-old yuuji cameo. we're getting festive !

little sunshines au

"stay fuckin' still..."

sukuna murmurs as he stands slightly crouched down, camera in hand, and ready to pop a vein because the kids refuse to stay still for the picture.

the twins sit on each leg of the bearded man, your son interrogating him while your daughter cries her little heart out. the only one smiling towards the camera is yuuji, but he keeps turning around to tell every single item in his list to santa.

"...and two dog plushies." little yuuji makes sure to get his point across by lifting two chubby fingers, looking so serious that santa immediately nods. "my friend likes dogs, his name is megumi!"

"where are the gifts?" your son butts in, tilting his head and squinting. "santa wikes cookies?"

and your daughter... well, she's just staring up at santa as she sobs—loudly.

sukuna curses under his breath (again), as he tries (and fails) to take a decent picture, the queue standing behind him growing restless.

"these brats." he groans, knowing he'll have to settle for an old classic. after a heavy sigh, he whistles, and the three kids instantly shut up. "oi, squirts! mama's here!"

at the sound of her favorite word, your daughter snaps her head towards the crowd, her eyes looking for you.

sukuna has one chance, and he uses it to finally snap a—somewhat decent—picture.

by the time the kids realize you aren't there, sukuna is already looking all smug and proud for coming up with the idea all by himself.

he would pat himself on the back if he could.

deciding to put the kids out of their misery, he grabs the crying girl once she starts making grabby hands at him, cradling her against his chest and letting her hide her face in his neck. with his free hand, he helps his son jump down from santa's lap and yuuji follows right behind.

"bye-bye santa!"

little yuuji waves the bearded man goodbye, following his uncle and babies to the bench a couple meters away.

"not so scary anymore, heh?" sukuna smirks, patting his daughter's back soothingly, but there's obvious happiness because he's finally some sort of a 'hero' in his baby girl's eyes.

and that's when you finally come back from getting the kids' presents, your smile dying down once you see three upset little ones.

"what happened!?"

"sensitive topic."

[inkdrinkerworld]

hi! Could I land of snow with sunshine!reader and post prison!spencer and "you know you didn't have to get me anything.." please?

“You know you didn't have to get me anything.” Spencer says as you place the neatly wrapped gift on his desk.

“It’s your first Christmas back, I thought it would be nice to end the year better.” You say almost shyly to him but you really mean it.

Spencer looks up at you in shock and a little bit of adoration. He’s got a look in his eyes, it makes your heart race a little.

“You have to open it but if you hate it don’t tell me.”

Spencer doesn’t think he could hate anything you get him. Or anything you do if he’s honest with himself.

You’d wormed your way into meaning a lot to him in a few short months, and your friendship right now makes his days a lot more fun.

“I won’t hate it.” He assures you, pulling the gift closer to him.

It’s wrapped expertly and Spencer decides then he’s keeping the gift tag in his drawer. Your handwriting is scrawling, loopy and very pretty- just like you.

Spencer opens the gift delicately, and the gasp he lets out makes your nibble at the corners of your fingers.

“You got me original versions of The Odyssey and The Iliad?”

“As original as I could’ve found. I know you have the Emily Wilson translations,”

Spencer nods, “The best ones.” You share that sentiment wholeheartedly.

“So I thought this one would be nice to have too. They’re translations to English on the page beside the Greek. I thought you could compare them with the Emily Wilson ones.”

Like Spencer, you ramble a little when you’re excited or nervous, this time it would be the latter.

“Thank you.” He’s earnest as he says it, heart beating a little faster when you smile down at him. “I’ll read them over the weekend and tell you how they compare.”

Just then Emily comes down to the bullpen, “We have a case. Pack warm, we’re heading to Washington.”

You give Spencer another smile and he feels like he’s won the lottery. “Maybe on the plane ride back you can squeeze a bit of light reading in.”

Spencer thinks of it and if it’ll get you to sit next to him while he does it, he will. “Maybe.”

[mystra-midnight]

— CALL ME LITTLE SUNSHINE | part i

pairing: rockstar ! eddie x innocent ! reader

tags: pet names. dirty talk. making-out. fingering. oral; (fem receiving). marking; (hickeys). loss of virginity. corruption kink. semi-public sex. eddie is entirely pussy whipped.

w/c: 6.7k.

a/n: welcome to part one! it's been a hot minute since i've posted anything as thought out and in-depth as this so if you could take a few minutes to reblog or comment some feedback, i'd very much appreciate it. ♥

"Corroded Coffin! Corroded Coffin! Corroded Coffin!"

The ever-growing crowd had been calling for the band the entire time you'd been waiting in line, which, after looking at the watch tucked beneath the sleeve of your cardigan, had been almost an hour and a half. The chanting had gotten so loud that, at some point, you'd stopped being able to hear yourself think, instead relying on Steve's large hand clasped around your own to tell you when to shuffle forward.

You felt out of place, unlike Steve and Robin. Everywhere you looked, people were dressed in leather and chains; piercings here, there, and everywhere; fishnets; big black platform boots; heavy make-up; and tattoos. And then there was you, dressed in a simple summer dress, hugging a knitted cardigan around your shoulders, wearing strappy sandals, and looking like someone right out of the Stepford Wives.

Other people noticed; you'd swear it, though no one said anything. As you looked between people, you caught a few of them looking at you, their expressions a motley of emotions that made you shift uncomfortably. Metal music had never been a particular favourite of yours, and concerts like this—where people were packed in like sardines—definitely weren't your preferred scene. The thought of being alone, snuggled beneath a blanket, and enjoying a glass of Moscato was much more appealing.

But you'd promised Steve and Robin that you'd come.

Well, no, not exactly. You hadn't promised either of them anything; instead, you'd given in to their constant whining. Steve and Robin had hung themselves from your legs as though they were dramatic, tantruming toddlers, pouting, and begging you to go with them. And after promising to cook dinner every night for a week—no, wait, a month!—your resolve finally broke.

That was how you found yourself finally walking through the double doors of the stadium. A gust from the air conditioner greeted you as you stepped inside, blowing your hair into your eyes and lip gloss, but it was a welcomed relief.

"I think that took literally forever." Your feet were already aching, and the thought of standing for another two hours was mentally and physically exhausting. Sure, you'd listened to some of Corroded Coffin's songs and thought they were good, but you weren't looking forward to standing in a sweaty crowd.

"Right. That was crazy, and they only have two scanners going. It's going to take forever to get everyone inside." Steve replied. His fingers tightened around yours when he felt your strides slowing, and he turned to notice your attention was on the merchandise display a few feet away. Following your gaze, he found the band tees hung up on a pinboard, images pressed onto the fronts and backs of each one. Some showed the band's tour dates and the cities they were scheduled to stop in, while others had stylised versions of Eddie's face.

Steve practically beamed with pride. He was proud of how far Eddie had come since they'd met—from school freak to famous rockstar. It was a big change, but a well-deserved one, given all the shit he'd been through. Somehow, he'd remained modest and hadn't forgotten where he'd come from; he'd gotten his uncle out of the trailer and into a two-bedroom apartment; he thanked his uncle and friends during every interview; he'd even forgiven his childhood bullies, though he never forgot what they'd done to him.

"Come on," he said while tugging your hand. "We should get in before the show starts," he said when you hesitated, teeth tugging on your lower lip as you continued to eye the shirts, bandanas, and posters on display. It was called the Upside Down Tour, and the band had released a limited-edition shirt for the tour.

"I want to get a shirt; this is the first concert like this I've ever been to. I want something to remember it." You explained. You wriggled your fingers in his, hinting that you wanted him to let go. If you'd have blinked, you might have missed it, but you swore that Steve and Robin shared a look—the kind that carried secret conversations and amusement.

Your heart stuttered in your chest, painful and sudden, while your mind raced to a dozen terrible thoughts. What if they regretted bringing you along, even though they'd practically begged you to go? What if they were angry? Fuck, what if they hated you? You must have looked like you were about to pass out because Steve took pity on you, reassuringly squeezing your hand as he stepped closer.

"Shit, sorry," he apologised with a crooked smile. "It's all good. We can pick one up after the show, okay? We need to get inside before security locks the doors."

"Oh," you answered. You ducked your head to hide your face, which felt like it was burning with embarrassment. You suddenly felt childish for letting your anxiety get the better of you, especially given that this was Steve and Robin, who had been nothing but kind from the moment you'd first met them. "Of course. After the show."

As though she sensed your distress, which she more than likely did because you radiated emotions like the sun radiated heat, Robin grabbed your other hand, lacing her fingers with yours, and gave you a sympathetic smile that mimicked the one on Steve's face. You loved them, but sometimes you hated them. So often, Robin and Steve seemed to be on the same page, on the same mental wavelength, having entire conversations with the lofting of a brow or half-smirk while you were on your own, a stranger looking in.

You tried not to think about it and tried desperately not to let negative emotions get the better of you tonight. You were at a concert with two amazing people, about to see a fantastic band play live. It was going to be a good night. Steve showed his ticket to one of the women managing the traffic flow, who motioned down a steep staircase into a standing pit right in front of the stage.

As you predicted, the crowd was already massive; there were too many people to fit comfortably within the stadium, but no one would complain as long as everyone behaved. And everyone would behave if they were able to see the band play. It wasn't long before the lights went down, and the crowd's cheering rose to a thunderous crescendo.

You felt the violent vibrations of the bass guitar as the bassist began the opening rift—how it rattled the ivory cage around your lungs until your entire body swayed to the rhythm. A sudden fireworks explosion dazzled and blinded you as the crowd rushed forward. Then the atmosphere turned electric, casting a weaving web on the crowd and drawing them in.

When the smoke settled, you saw the band had taken their places on stage, dressed in black denim, leather, chains, tattoos, and wild hair. They preened beneath the attention of their peers as the frontman and lead singer, Eddie Munson, moved to stand before a microphone. "I hope you're ready to rock, Hawkins, 'cause we're not stopping until the cops come knocking!"

Steve grabbed your wrist and dragged you in front of him, pushing you closer to the stage. That was how you found yourself standing front and centre. One of his hands grabbed your hip firmly, ready to break the fingers of any other wandering hands. He wrapped his other arm around Robin's shoulders, holding her to him as they sang along to a song you didn't know the words to.

It wasn't your proximity to him or the bruising grip of his fingers that warmed your blood, but the singer on stage. You'd seen pictures of Eddie in the trashy magazine you picked up from the gas station occasionally; each one seemed to be a different headline, each as scandalous as the last. Corroded Coffin's singer caught with another woman? Eddie Munson, Satanic Priest! Some of them were ridiculous, and none of them had been particularly entertaining, especially when, in every interview, he seemed humble, perhaps even flustered by the fame.

The sight of him on stage sent heat dripping down your cheeks and into your neck, spiralling through your veins to gather at your core.

He looked like a devil but had the face of an angel—wild curls bounced around his face, you caught glimpses of his inked skin, and there was a perfect trail of hair on his abdomen. He strummed at his guitar strings as though it were his lover, plucking the cords with perfectly practised movements. You wondered what else his fingers could do, and a wild blush crept into your face.

As though your thoughts weren't mortifying enough, he seemed to have noticed. His eyes found yours in the crowd, as if he could see straight into your brain and was plucking the fantasies from your mind.

The world slowed to a crawl and faded until it was just the two of you and your racing thoughts. You drank in the sight of him. You caught glimpses of his tattoos, watched how droplets of sweat rolled down the hollow of his throat as the heat of the stage lights bore down on him, and watched how his lips moved as he sang, the rasps of his voice enough to make you tremble.

You tugged your lower lip between your teeth, almost afraid to look away; you wanted this moment to go on forever and ever. But as abruptly as it began, the fantasy ended when he looked out across the crowd, and as he did, the world snapped back into place. Your heart was racing, and your breath was erratic.

You felt silly having been caught up in such an intense moment with a perfect stranger, even if he was handsome and famous—a perfect mixture of exhilaration and embarrassment. You glanced at Robin and Steve, hoping they hadn't noticed your captivated state. They hadn't.

The two were still singing and enjoying the music, bouncing up and down as a guitar solo swept through the speakers. Worrying your lip between your teeth, you looked back at the stage, trying valiantly to refocus on the music. After a while, the guitar's pounding bass and electrifying energy were enough to pull you back into the moment.

You felt captivated, as though whatever dark spell he was weaving had fallen upon you, too. His performance was filled with raw emotion and a rebellious spirit, with the lyrics resonating with something deep inside you, echoing your desires, and enticing a wildness to spark in your veins.

You stole another glance at him, and his eyes again met yours. It was almost as if the universe had conspired to connect you two in a chaotic sea of people. With a sudden burst of courage you didn't think yourself capable of, you gave a bashful smile and lifted your hand, waving at him.

He saw and acknowledged you with a knowing smile, to your surprise and amusement. It felt like a dirty secret. You would swear that your face was on fire from how hard you were blushing, your fingers wringing together nervously at the front of your dress.

It seems silly. In fact, you knew it was silly, childish, and stupid.

You didn't know him, and he didn't know you. You knew the media's version of him—the stylised rockstar who'd grown up poor, defied the odds, and came out on top—the playboy who had a different girl every other week and who'd been caught having sex with fans in odd places. But what you'd felt, however brief, had ignited a fire in the pit of your stomach. You felt it smouldering as you were lost in the music and its wild energy.

The last guitar riff played, and the crowd erupted into thunderous applause. You expected the crowd to thin down now that the show was finished, but they remained, hooting and hollering, vying for his attention.

"He was incredible!" You shouted as you turned to Steve, straining to be heard above the crowd. He gave you a funny expression and tilted his head to the side, causing a stir of hair to fall into his face.

"What?" 

"I said," you shouted while moving closer to him. "That was incredible!"

This time, he heard you, chuckling under his breath and holding you in place when you tried to slip through the crowd. And then you saw Eddie standing at the edge of the stage, a security guard at his side. You could see they were talking, now if only you'd learned to read lips. Except you didn't need to read lips to know he was pointing right at the three of you.

Your heart stopped mid-beat, your mouth running dry, as a second security guard approached the three of you. From where you were frozen in time, you didn't see Steve and Robin grinning at each other or the glint in their eyes.

You were star-struck, staring at the security guard as if he'd grown a second head. And he might as well have because things like this didn't happen. Maybe it happened in the movies, but not real life and you weren't some perfectly poised beauty. You were a real woman with feelings; they were all over the place right now.

You grabbed Steve's arm when he stepped away, pulling him to a stop. He looked down at you with a furrowed brow. "What the hell is going on?" you hissed at him, not angry but entirely surprised and uncertain. He gave you a dashing and daring smile.

"Think he just invited us backstage."

"What?"

You'd tried to convince yourself that this was a wild dream. You even pinched yourself—twice. Things like this didn't happen to ordinary people, especially people like you. The shy woman who had to have a drink in her hand, the woman who took sips to fill the silence when talking became overwhelming, the woman who stammered and blushed with little more than a wink from a handsome man.

But it was happening. And now there you were, backstage, with Steve and Robin at your side, staring at a door with the band's name written in block letters. You could hear people milling about inside.

The security guard knocked, and you heard the muffled sound of movement, followed by something being knocked over and a chorus of laughter. Finally, the door was hauled open.

"Eddie!"

Robin's outburst startled you. She pushed past you and Steve, then the security guard, and threw herself at the man. You gawked at them, eyes wide as your soul burst to life, heart skipping several beats when he spun her in a circle. Robin's feet didn't touch the ground as they laughed. 

You couldn't believe it.

There, standing not even five feet away, was the lead singer of Corroded Coffin, Eddie-fucking-Munson—the very same man you'd been eye-fucking on stage not even an hour ago. A part of you wanted the ground to open wide and swallow you whole. Another part screamed at you to cling to him as Robin had done.

"Hey," Steve whispered, leaning slightly closer to your ear. "Are you doing okay? You look like you've seen a ghost or something."

"What?" You replied, your voice rising an octave in panic. Your gaze whirled between Steve and the duo, who seemed oblivious to your presence, and then back again. "Yes, well, no! You didn't tell me you knew him!"

"Who? Eddie?" He asked.

"That guy, right there, the famous guy hugging our friend?" You were incredulous, your arm flailing in their direction, much to Robin's amusement and Eddie's confusion. "Yes, him! You two know him?"

"What about Eddie?"

The sudden appearance of his voice made you squeak in surprise. His voice was dark, deep, and delectable, like chocolate, and hoarse. It felt like liquid heat pouring down your spine, flooding every intersecting bone until you trembled. Eddie smiled, and his cheeks dimpled in a way that had you blushing wildly.

You stared as Steve and Eddie swept each other into a bear hug, slapping each other on the back and again on the arm as they came apart. Robin gave you a playful poke in the side, bringing your attention back to her.

"What about Eddie?" She asked, which inevitably brought all of their attention to you. You shifted beneath the weight of their combined stare. Your eyes found Eddie's, and you looked away quickly.

"Yeah, what about Eddie, girl?" He playfully added.

"Nothing! It's just that—um—well, I didn't know you—uh—that they knew you. That's all." You say, stumbling over the words like an awkward teenager. You mentally kicked yourself, but in truth, you'd never been good at talking to people. You'd always been a little shy, and everyone made fun of you before Steve and Robin slowly started coaxing you out of your shell.

And it wasn't as though he knew you. He probably hadn't seen you in the crowd. Now that you think about it, Eddie was just as likely to be smiling at them, not you, when he was on stage. But that didn't do anything to pull the blush out of your face or stop the way you shuffled under the gaze of the trio.

"Oh, yeah," Eddie said with an awkward laugh, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. Your eyes went a little buggy when his shirt rode up, revealing that trail of hair that disappeared into the band of his jeans.

You looked away quickly before he could catch you staring, finding something on the wall that suddenly fascinated you. He didn't notice, or at least didn't say anything if he did. "Yeah, yeah, the three of us went to high school together. It seems like a lifetime ago."

Robin stared at him, her expression incredulous. "It was, like, five years ago, Eds. Don't you dare make me older than I am!" She said as the back of her hand connected with his stomach. Eddie huffed as he doubled over dramatically, clutching his stomach and coughing as though she'd just punched the air from his lungs. You laughed despite yourself, momentarily drawing his attention to you; he flashed you a dazzling smile before hustling the three of you inside. 

It would have been spacious inside the room if it wasn't filled with boxes of merchandise, band equipment, and the rest of the band. The little composure you'd managed to hold onto disappeared when Steve and Robin rushed inside, similarly greeting the others, hugging and laughing like old friends. 

You lingered at the door, unsure what to do with yourself, when you felt a hand against the small of your back, fingertips tapping just above the curve of your ass, high enough to be respectful but low enough to send a delicious shiver down your spine.

"Come on, sweetheart. They don't bite," Eddie said with a laugh before leaning down to whisper in your ear. You felt his breath against your neck, the warmth of it making you shiver as he caught a glimpse of your cleavage before you hugged your cardigan around yourself. 

"Well, I might," he added. "If you ask nicely."

He didn't wait to see your reaction, but from the beaming smile plastered on his face, he'd heard your squeak of surprise. Instead, Eddie flounced into the room, joining Steve, Robin, and the others as you followed.

Once official introductions were made, you sat at the end of one of the couches next to Eddie, who seemed entirely unaware of your nervous inner turmoil. Occasionally, his thigh brushed against yours, jostling you in his excitable state as the group recalled their high school years.

"You were quite the ladies' man in high school, Steve. Don't act bashful now," the drummer, Gareth, said with a booming laugh. You found yourself smiling and laughing with him, amused by the way Steve rubbed at the back of his neck and tried to deflect. 

"I remember Robin telling me that the girls used to call him King Steve." You added. Gareth howled with laughter at how Steve flushed a deeper shade of pink. You smiled at him, pretty and sweet, but should have known he wouldn't let that slight go unanswered. You hardly had time to steel yourself before he returned fire.

"Hey now," he said, his smile positively devilish. "Don't start throwing shade if you can't handle the sun, sweets. Because I could tell some stories about you, too. Well, no, I couldn't. I don't think I've ever heard those bed springs squeak."

You choked on a mouthful of beer, coughing as you glared at him in horror. "Steven Joseph Harrington!" Your face burned at the revelation of a secret you'd shared with him one drunk and wild night. Using his full government name was enough for him to know he'd crossed a line, but the laughter of his friends encouraged him.

"I can't help it if that's the truth, you know," he said with a shrug.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Eddie shouted, shaking his hand wildly to get everyone's attention, especially yours. You squirmed in your seat, pushing yourself hard against the arm of the couch to try and escape his intense stare when he rounded on you. 

"Never? As in never, ever?"

At that moment, you wanted the ground to open wide and swallow you. It wasn't that you were embarrassed to be a virgin, but the attention made you uncomfortable. You'd never been the type of woman to want a one-night stand with a stranger. Steve had offered once when you'd both been drunk and confessing secrets, but you'd never felt the itch.

And it wasn't that you considered your virginity to be a cherished and sacred part of yourself. But you'd never wanted to be that vulnerable with someone unless you trusted them entirely. 

"Bullshit." Eddie spat, not nasty, but disbelieving. "You've gotta be shitting me. A pretty thing like you hasn't ever had sex? I know you're lying."

You stared at your hands resting in your lap, fingers wringing the hem of your dress until the stitching threatened to fray. From across the room, you heard the vague sound of Robin talking, mumbling something about you being as ripe as a cherry. She purposely popped her lips, and you wanted to die.

"Jesus Christ," you managed to choke out. "Yes, okay, I'm a total virgin. Can we talk about something else, please?"

The universe appeared to take mercy on you because the conversation changed topics at breakneck speed. One moment, Eddie was gawking at you; the next, he was focused entirely upon Jeff, who'd bought up something called the Hellfire Club. You took the opportunity to down the rest of your beer, letting the flavour of it wash away the taste of embarrassed tears.

The night went on in relative peace. You drank with them, listening to their wild stories of high school shenanigans and offering your own when prompted. You hadn't realised how much time had passed until you glanced at your watch and gawked: two in the morning.

"So, never?" Eddie asked without warning, his voice soft and almost innocent, breaking the silence that had blossomed within the room. You pulled your cardigan around your shoulders as though the thin material could shield you from his gaze. The others had fallen asleep, either drunk or high or just beyond exhausted. It was just the two of you.

Just you and Eddie.

"Look," you said with a sigh, your face burning again. "I really don't want to talk about that."

He held his hands in the universal sign of hold up. "I'm not judging you, sweetheart. I'm just curious. A pretty thing like you has to have a trail of broken hearts behind her."

You laughed despite yourself and relaxed back onto the couch, enjoying the warmth radiating from him. He was so close that you could see the way his Adam's apple bobbed with each swallow, the way he traced his lips with the tip of his tongue, the way the fabric of his jeans stretched across his lap, the bulge there. . .

You snapped your head away when he caught your staring.

"It's not like that. I've had boyfriends. I've just never felt comfortable doing anything with them. Not that they were bad people. I didn't want to do it because everyone was doing it. Then I got busy, and dating stopped happening. You understand? Of course you do. You're famous; I doubt you have much time for dating. Not that anyone wouldn't want to date you."

You were rambling, the words falling from your lips like verbal vomit, and you couldn't stop. Eddie silenced you, moving without warning to close the distance lingering between the two of you. He grabbed you by the back of the neck, his fingers rough and warm, pulling you into the wall of his chest so that he could slot his mouth against yours.

Eddie Munson tasted like cigarette smoke and alcohol, dark desire wrapped in leather. Eddie Munson smelled like adrenaline and sex, a woman's wet dream. Before you knew what you were doing, you kissed him back, desperate for more.

Eddie led you into an adjacent room, his fingers enveloping yours, providing a comforting anchor. The soft snores of the others faded into a distant hum as he closed the door. Your gaze traced the contours of his back, the curve of his shoulders, the way his studded jacket draped over them, the weight of his chunky black boots and the ruggedness of his ripped jeans. The belt cinched around his narrow waist, crowned with a buckle shaped like a bat, adding a touch of mystery to his rugged charm.

He turned abruptly, his hand slamming against the door beside your head, eliciting a startled yelp from you. Eddie pressed against you, your hands instinctively clutching the fabric of his shirt. Caught between the desire to pull him closer and the instinct to push him away, you found yourself staring at him with wide, uncertain eyes. Your heart pounded against its ivory prison, the uncertainty of the moment adding to its frantic beat.

"E—Eddie?" You managed to stammer his name, your voice impossibly quiet, overflowing with uncertainty and a mix of fear and desire. He didn't seem to mind. He smiled at you, his breath washing over your mouth and nose like a sweet rum, leaving you light-headed. You squeezed your thighs together as tight as you could, desperate to stifle the growing heat at your core.

He felt it, your nervous shifting and the wild beating of your heart as he cruised a hand along your body, from your hip and then over your breast to clutch the back of your neck. He rubbed his thumb over your racing pulse. "Has anyone ever kissed you like this before? Pushed you against a wall, touched you, told you how beautiful you are?"

Your face burned. Eddie knew that you'd been kissed before; you'd told him as much. But you'd also told him you were a virgin. At twenty-four, you'd almost grown out of being embarrassed by the fact. 

"No," you answered in a low exhale, trying to duck your head to avoid his smouldering stare. His eyes were blown with lust, almost black as coal, as he pushed his thumb against your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

He leaned in closer, the feel of him like a weighted blanket on your chest, making it harder to breathe but in a pleasant way. It made your head fuzzy, like floating in a beautiful daydream, except his lips ghosted over yours. The faintest of touches had reality snapping into place around you.

"Never, ever?" Eddie whispered, his lips brushing, tugging, teasing yours. He was so close that he'd invaded all your senses until all you saw, heard, and breathed was him. He held fast when he wanted to move. Eddie waited for someone to give in to desire and bring the other into the flames. He wanted and needed it to be you.

The tiny whimper you made shot through him, racing through his blood like a bolt of electricity until his cock throbbed. And then you took the plunge, a hand at the back of his neck, the other hauling him in by that pretty studded jacket so you could brush your mouth against his.

It was all he needed—a silent confession, unspoken permission.

Eddie pushed against you until you felt the studs of his leather jacket and his dangling chains pressing into you through your clothing, your dress suddenly restrictive and in the way. His hands were everywhere, cupping your face, running through your hair. And then he dropped to his knees with a thud, pressing kisses down your stomach, leaving wet marks against the fabric of your dress as he ran his hands up the backs of your legs.

"No one ever touched you like this?"

You felt like you were going up in flames. His touch was fire licking your skin, beautiful and pure, leaving you trembling. His hands moved up the back of your thighs, and when his mouth found your belly button, tongue swirling once, then twice, you grabbed him by the shoulders to steady yourself.

"Words, sweet girl. I need you to answer," he said in a husky tone, pinching the back of your thigh to bring you out of your mind and into the moment. He looked at you from beneath his impossibly dark lashes, his eyes dark, twinkling with mischief.

"Never," you managed to gasp when his hands began drifting high, pushing your dress up until he could bunch it at your hips. And then he was face-to-face with your panties, groaning dramatically, making a sound that would make a pornstar blush. 

"Have mercy," Eddie moaned, his breath hot against your mound even through the barrier of clothing. His eyes moved back to yours, and you flushed with embarrassment. He was staring at you like he wanted to devour you. "Even your fucking panties are adorable. That little bow? I'm going to take my time unwrapping this present."

Yet, despite this admission, he didn't take his time.

His mouth landed on your clothed cunt without a preamble. Your knees shook and threatened to give out as he worked his tongue against the wet fabric, tasting your arousal and letting it slide down his throat like a fine wine. Eddie found that virgins were quick to get wet. His calloused fingers kneaded the globes of your arse, pulling you closer, his talented tongue pushing your panties into your slit so he could tease your clit with gentle licks.

You bit your knuckles to stifle the sounds of your moans as pleasure snaked through your veins, creeping through your bloodstream until you broke into a sweat.

"Put your hands in my hair," he demanded with a rough voice, and like a mindless fool, you complied. His hair was a mess of wild curls that you pulled on, sinking your fingers deep into his plush locks when he started to work your panties down your thighs. "Good girl."

"Oh god." As the fabric pooled at your ankles, your head hit the door with a soft thud. You were like putty in his hands—willing to walk through the fires of hell if it meant he'd keep touching you. Eddie freed one of your ankles and threw your leg over his shoulder, bringing you closer.

Words could not describe the feeling of his tongue against your slick folds or the sensation of the tip flicking against your clit. It was like lightning arched through the sky to melt the skin from your bones. You were burning up. And he'd lit the match.

Eddie was loud and messy, lewd. The sounds that clawed up his throat were pornographic. Each wet schlick of his mouth was accompanied by a throaty moan as he sucked your clit and teased your throbbing hole with the tip of his tongue.

It was an out-of-body experience—you never realised you could feel this good. Eddie held you by the back of the thighs, his grip firm, pulling you onto his tongue until your flesh goosepipmpled beneath his touch. You could have collapsed when he withdrew, a line of saliva connecting the tip of his tongue to your clit.

"Words, pretty girl. You gotta use them, or I'm going to stop."

You whined desperately, weaving your fingers deeper into his wild hair. "Please don't stop, Eddie. . ."

"Then talk to me. Let me hear those pretty sounds."

He waited only a moment, his dark eyes staring into yours with the intensity of the sun. He took in your flushed cheeks and shallow breaths that made your chest heave. Then he resumed his meal. The sound you made in response was embarrassing—at least, it should have been. You should have wanted the ground to split open and swallow you. But you didn't.

"It's good," you choked out, squeezing your eyes shut as he ran the flat of his tongue along your slit, the tip flicking your clit in a delicious way that made your hips twitch; forward, then back, like you wanted him to eat you alive but also to escape. 

The feeling was exquisite—like nothing you had ever felt—knocking the air from your lungs, making the muscles in your legs tense and your core weep. Your whole body jerked under his tongue, a shiver shaking your spine, your bones turning to jelly as he licked and sucked your drenched cunt. "Oh god. . . I think. . . I—I'm close."

You'd had orgasms before, but nothing quite like this. It was a slow build, each swipe of Eddie's tongue amplifying the pressure between your hips, sending jolts of electricity through your veins until your nerves crackled and popped. It was difficult to describe; you could taste the words on the tip of your tongue, but they melted away with each moan he drew from your lips.

And then it spread out through your body, a searing warmth that threatened once more to melt the skin from your bones.

"You're so wet, sweetness, m'fucking drowning here," Eddie said. Even though his words were vulgar, the low growl with which he spoke sent you tumbling down the other side of pleasure. The first wave zinged through you, knocking the air from your lungs and sparking every one of your nerves to life.

You bit your knuckles hard until you tasted blood, but the flavour was quickly lost as the second wave seared through your limbs. Eddie didn't stop—not once. Each swipe of his tongue against your clit, each push of it into your virginal hole, sent wisps of fire shooting through your veins, adding stars and galaxies bursting to life behind your scrunched-shut eyes.

When you returned to earth, you found yourself trembling, his strong hands the pillars that kept you upright. Eddie kissed his way back up your body, slowly working your dress up as he went until he could pull it over your head. He threw it over his shoulder, the fabric a distant memory as it hit the ground, lost and now forgotten.

"No one ever made you cum before, have they?" He whispered, his breath hot, his smirk feral, as he teased his lips along the slope of your neck. You whined when your bare cunt rubbed against his dark denim jeans, the rough drag of the rips and tears against your lips sending you hurtling toward the sky once more.

"No," you managed to say before catching his mouth for a wild, clumsy kiss. Eddie happily obliged, pushing his tongue into your mouth and licking your teeth so you tasted yourself.

"Touch me. . ."

"What do good girls say?"

"Please."

You would die if he didn't touch you in the next three seconds. You would collapse to the ground, melt into a puddle at his feet, and literally die.

Thankfully, he took pity on you. 

Eddie kissed you deeply, with the fire of a thousand suns; his hot breath stole through your lungs when he swallowed your moans, leaving you on the verge of combustion. You felt lost in him, touching him here, there, and everywhere as you tried to strip him. Eddie didn't let you. He grabbed your wrists and held them at the small of your back, and he moved you both across the room.

Your lips never once parted. The moment was composed of hot breaths, searing kisses, and teasing bites, weakening your knees terribly. Eddie fell back into a high chair in front of the make-up mirrors. You were desperate to climb into his lap, to wind your legs around him and leech the warmth from his chest, but instead, he turned you and pulled you into his lap, back to chest.

"Eddie," you whispered his name in a sigh, heady with desire. "I want more. . ."

He pressed a kiss against the shell of your ear, smiling in response. His lips were wet, his mouth wanting as he lowered it to your next, sucking a mark into your plush skin. "Open your eyes, sweetness."

Eddie hooked your knees over his thighs, spreading you open and exposing you to the mirror. The tips of his fingers ghosted along the crease of your inner thigh, making your breath hitch in anticipation. "You're beautiful," he said with a hum, nuzzling his nose into your hair. You caught his eyes in the reflection and saw the stark desire that had turned his pupils black, the hunger.

And you saw the expression mirrored in your own reflection. Your skin was flushed the subtlest shade of pink, pussy glistening with arousal. Eddie honestly thought you were the prettiest thing he'd ever fucking seen; so sweet, so innocent.

The stretch of his thick fingers was immediately exquisite, the slick of your arousal coating them entirely. Eddie watched the mirror, transfixed by the way it dropped from around his fingers, sliding down the curve of your ass to darken his denim jeans.

He felt you clench around him, tension seeping through your body as the pain collided with pleasure, twisting through your veins like snakes, intertwined, threatening to consume you from the inside out. You cried out when he crooked them, hips rising in search of more; his other hand cruised up your body, the soft swell of your stomach, cupping a tit in the palm of his hand, thumb teasing your nipple into a hardened peak.

Eddie growled against your neck. He was as hard as a rock, and each jolt of your hips had your arse rutting against his aching cock. You reached back to grab his hair, winding your fingers through his wild curls as the pleasure mounted. You were a guitar, and he had years of practice. He watched the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the way you couldn't sit still as he fucked his fingers in and out of your cunt, the way you clawed at his jeans.

You put a hand over your mouth to stifle the way you moan, loud, wantonly, like a whore. You felt dirty—like this was a scandalous secret. The thought of being found was erotically terrifying.

"You getting close, sweetness?" Eddie asked; no, he growled the words against your neck, teeth clipping the sensitive skin. "I can feel it. You're squeezing my fingers so fucking tight. Are you thinking about my cock? How much better it'll feel than my fingers?"

As though to emphasise his words, his thrust against you, his erection hard against the globes of your arse, leaving him moaning as his own muscles twisted with desire, pure liquid heat pouring through his bones.

"Cum for me, baby."

He wasn't asking; no, he was demanding.

tag list ::

@micheledawn1975 | @maxstecc

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[blacknailsandheartbreak]

Imagine the group cannot understand how you and Zuko are so close with you being a literal saint and Zuko being... well Zuko

AN: I am back! Man, it's been a hot minute since my last post! ...Lets not think about that because I am back! :) woo hoo

~1400 word count

Part 2 once your done reading :)

SO, lets jump in and see what this Zuko fic about??? Well, imagine this...

The whole group is together and you are the newest member joining from an encounter at a local market. You'd travel alone from town to town, trying to help in any way you can to help fix the wounds the war had created. You fit in well, very polite and nice, never showing any anger, but very capable of defending your own with a bow. You became close with Katara, almost like sisters. Though, unknown to the group that you were a fire bender, you wished to keep that a secret. Your nation had done too much damage and could not bear to be tied to such a name. You hadn't practiced in a long time and were contempt on keeping it that way. You were good enough with your bow, you could protect yourself without the aid of bending. But one person saw through your mask, the only other fire bender in the group. You had a feeling he knew, as he was finding ways to spend more time with you, offering to walk with you to the market, to fetch water or wood, and he seemed to only ask you questions while it was just the two of you. If he did know you were a fire bender, then let it be so.

You volunteered one night to gather firewood, and Zuko promptly offered his assistance, in your nature you gladly accepted, you did like the company. While you two walked, you held a wicker basket against your hip and did most of the talking. Zuko hummed in response, keeping note of their far distance from the camp. As the conversation seemed to die out, Zuko stopped walking and you walked a couple more steps before realizing his halt. You turn around and lock eyes, both of you stand straight and still like statues. You knew what was coming next, your hair swayed slightly in the wind, the setting sun leaving amber shadows across you both.

"You're a bender, a fire bender." Zuko states, no question to his voice. You couldn't deny it, there was no point, he knew. You looked at him and smiled. You confirmed his suspicions, and explained to him that you have been building a new reputation for yourself outside of a fire bender label, trying to heal the brand the fire nation left on your skin as well as all its people and the ones it had affected. Zuko seemed sad, he apologized for his nation, our nation. He had promised things would change after Sozin's comet, once he overtook his father. You smile and agree that Zuko would make a fine Fire Lord, you talk to him about how much you believe can change. Ever since that night You two became close, very close. Close in ways the group could only suspect, but no proof.

On the last night of the Gaangs regrouping, before they had to pack up camp and keep moving, everyone had gone to bed, except for Zuko. He had a hard time trying to get to sleep that night, so he went out for a walk to try and clear his head. He sat by the nearby river and thought about what you had said, to rebuild a new reputation as to not be associated with the fire nation, start anew. Zuko balled his fists in anger at his country, the horrible things, unspeakable notions they had unleashed. Zuko scrunched his nose in disgust and felt the pull of his scar, a sensation that he was use to, one that would usually bring more frustration but only brought him sorrow tonight, as your words passed though his mind, 'trying to heal the brand the fire nation left on your skin as well as all its people and the ones it had effected'. Zuko felt the shame of his land pile on his shoulders, but he decided to head back to camp before he got too far into his head.

Back at camp, everyone was in bed, Toph slept alone in her stone tent, the boys had their own tent, while You and Katara shared a tent. Katara took a leap on that last night and decided to ask you about you and Zuko. She thought now would be the best time over any. Katara looked at you laying with your back to her, she gently poked your shoulder and you turned over.

"Sorry for waking you, but I had a question and I hope you take no offence, but you and Zuko... you guys have seemed to be getting very close... so um... are you guys... you know... together...?" Katara asked you in a quiet whisper with wide curious eyes.

While Katara spoke, Zuko had made his way back into camp and heard the faint whispers. It was unlike him to listen in on others' conversations but they had obviously not heard him return, and he seemed to be the topic of their subject so he decided it was fair game to listen. He caught on quickly as it was something about you and him.

You smiled and replied in a steady whisper, "Zuko and I have become good friends, nothing more." You and Zuko knew there was a bond beyond your secrets you shared, but you two were not together, just close.

Zuko had his arms crossed across his chest, he felt no offence towards the statement you shared, it was true, it was a neutral answer he could respect.

Katara responds "Oh okay... um if you don't mind me asking another question," You nodded her on, Katara continued, "Zuko and you seem to be very different, as in you are so... vibrant and kind, I don't think I have ever seen you mad." She said giggling quietly, and you smiled. "But Zuko... well you know Zuko, he only ever... scowls. Spirits, I think a smile might split his face in half..."

Zuko furrows his brows at the comment, and grabs across his mouth, 'I can smile', he thinks to himself, lowering his hand.

Katara continues, "and... and it's like pulling teeth trying to get him to talk..." Katara looks at you, "How do you- being your bubbly self, connect with someone like him? How can you talk with him for as long as you do when he seems to barely listens half the time?"

'Barely listen??' Zuko thought as his eyebrows shot up at the comment, 'Is she serious? How could she possibly think that!'

You smile at her observation, "Zuko is very kind to me," you say sweetly.

Zuko's face relaxes to your answer, and he uncrosses his arms.

You continue, "But you're right, he never says much, and yes, he is indeed quiet, but when one has gone through so much, it is understandable. We all know that feeling to some extent and we all have our ways of dealing with it. I have accepted how Zuko conveys himself as he had accepted me for how I present myself. But over all, yes, he does listen, even if it seems he is not, he always does." You conclude with a sweet smile.

Zuko is almost taken back from your answer in a way he cannot explain, but it feels as if an unknown weight has lifted off his shoulders from your response. He decided to leave the conversation there as he had heard all he needed to, and turned to walk away. But the next thing you said had caught his attention.

"Who knows," You add, "his ears are probably burning right now with the mere conversation of us talking about him...". You both giggle and say your goodnights. Zuko smirked and rolled his eyes and walked back to his tent. Although, as he replays the conversation over in his mind, something sits like a small rock in his stomach. 'Zuko and I have become good friends, nothing more.' Nothing more, he thought over and over in his head, maybe with time that could change. Once Zuko becomes Fire Lord and is able to start the change that the world needed to heal, you would embrace your bending and be proud of your nation. But that would come in time, so for right now, he could work with good friends.

[hyperboleigh91]

For reference:

[mugglebornmarvelite]

Teddy Bear Bucky

Paring: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: For once, the usually tense and stoic soldier is completely at ease, making for an amusing sight when someone finds you asleep on Bucky's chest.

Word Count: Roughly 1.3k

Warnings: Fluff, death threats (playful), roughhousing, chaos, chasing, and brief mentioning of Bucky's past if you squint.

Part 1: Sunshine in His Shadows

P.S. It can be read as a stand-alone, but if you want to know how it led up to this point, part 1 is above :)

Navigation

Divider by: @strangergraphics

The morning sun poured through the compound windows, its warm rays spilling across the living room, casting a soft glow in the room. You were nestled soundly on top of Bucky, curled into him like he was your personal, oversized teddy bear. His head rested against the back of the couch, one arm protectively wrapped around you. For once, he wasn’t tense or scowling; he was completely relaxed, a rare sight for someone so used to being on edge for years.

And if you squinted, there was a faint smile on his face.

Steve walked past the living room but came to an abrupt halt at the sight. His eyes widened, and he rubbed them as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then, a grin spread across his face. A shit-eating grin at that.

"Oh, this is gold," he whispered to himself, eyes lighting up with the realization of what he had to do. With a quiet chuckle, he darted off, eager to recruit to show others.

A few minutes later, Steve returned, followed by Natasha and Sam. Natasha glanced at the scene, then raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk curling at the corners of her mouth. Sam, however, wasn’t wasting any time. He pulled out his phone with a wicked grin, his camera aimed at the precious moment unfolding in front of him.

“This is too good to pass up,” Sam murmured, crouching low to get the perfect angle. “Grumpy Barnes being used as a human pillow? For his sunshine no less? This is legendary.”

Natasha sipped her coffee with a knowing smirk. “He’s totally going to kill you for this, right?”

“Yeah, well,” Sam grinned, swiping through his phone. “I’ll send out the picture before he forces me to delete it. The old man doesn’t understand technology.” His fingers tapped out a message to Wanda, who’d probably get a good laugh out of it.

The sound of a camera shutter clicked softly, but just as Sam thought he was in the clear, Bucky stirred beneath you. His brow furrowed slightly, and for a split second, everything seemed still. Then, the faint creak of a floorboard sent Bucky’s instincts into overdrive. His eyes shot open, scanning the room like a hawk, before landing on the source of his irritation: Sam, his phone raised triumphantly, with Steve and Natasha struggling to hold back laughter in the background.

Before Bucky could fully react, you shifted against him with a groggy groan. You blinked your eyes open, still half-asleep, and found yourself looking up at him in confusion. 

“Bucky? What-?” 

It only took a moment for the embarrassing realization to hit. You had somehow fallen asleep on top of him, completely unaware. Your face flushed as your eyes widened, and you started to apologize, but before you could even say a word, Bucky gently but swiftly lifted you off him, placing you back on the couch. 

He stood, as though trying to shake off any evidence of what had just happened, then grabbed a blanket nearby and tucked it around your shoulders, making sure you were comfortable and warm.

“Stay warm, sunshine,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough but strangely tender.

Sam, unable to contain himself, burst out laughing. “Oh, man, I’m framing this one. You look like a giant grizzly bear trying to babysit a kitten.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened with a glare so intense, it could’ve burned a hole through Sam. His voice was low and dangerous. “Delete it. Now.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! I didn’t do anything! Steve told me!” Sam raised his hands in mock surrender, but his grin was impossible to hide.

Bucky’s focus shifted to Steve, who was pretending to be innocent. “Hey, don’t blame me! I had to tell someone what I saw. Kill him, not me.”

“See you, sucker!” Sam snickered, bolting for the door, phone clutched in his hand tightly.

“Hey, wait!” Steve scrambled after him, grinning as he caught up with Sam.

Bucky didn’t waste a second. With a growl, he chased after them, his heavy footsteps pounding like thunder in the compound. Steve was laughing as he ran, shouting, “Don’t let him catch me!”

“I’m gonna make you both regret that,” Bucky roared, his voice deep and fierce as he quickened his pace.

Still nestled in the blanket, you rubbed your eyes, trying to shake the sleep from your system. The chaos unfolding in front of you was enough to make you frown sleepily. 

“What...what is happening?” you mumbled, looking up at Natasha, who was still watching the scene unfold, an amused look on her face.

She leaned down to gently smooth your hair, offering you a warm cup of coffee. “Just another day in paradise. You fell asleep on Bucky, and now he’s off hunting down Sam for taking pictures. Steve opened his mouth and pretty much condemned himself. Typical.”

You buried your face in the blanket, your cheeks burning crimson. “I fell asleep on Bucky?”

Natasha smirked knowingly. “Oh, yeah. And he didn’t even complain. He stayed perfectly still for you. It was actually kind of adorable.”

The flush on your face deepened, and you peeked out from the blanket. “I can’t believe this.”

Natasha sipped her coffee, smirking at you one last time. “I’m going to see if Wanda got the picture.” With that, she made her way out of the room, leaving you alone to process the madness.

Meanwhile, down the hall, Sam and Steve were running for their lives. Sam glanced over his shoulder, still laughing, though his breath came in short bursts. “You can’t kill us both, Barnes!”

“Try me,” Bucky growled, a wicked grin playing at the corners of his mouth as he closed in on them.

Steve, managing to duck into a nearby room, slammed the door behind him. Sam, realizing he was alone and defenseless, let out a panicked yell. “Traitor!”

Bucky didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Sam by the back of his shirt with a single motion, yanking him to a stop. “Gotcha, birdbrain.”

“Wait! Wait!” Sam held up his phone, waving it frantically. “I’ll delete it! I swear!”

Bucky snatched the phone from Sam’s hand, eyes narrowed with irritation. He quickly checked the screen, making sure the photo was gone. Satisfied, he shoved the phone back into Sam’s chest with a low growl. “If I see that picture anywhere, you’re dead.”

Sam held up his hands, clearly not wanting to push it any further. “Message received, Sergeant Teddy Bear.” He backed away with a half-grin, hands still raised in surrender.

Bucky shot him one last glare before walking back toward the living room, shaking his head at the chaos. By the time he returned, you had sat up on the couch, still wrapped in the blanket, your face a mix of sleepiness and embarrassment. 

“Did you really stay still all night just so I wouldn’t wake up?” you asked softly, your shy smile tugging at his heart.

Bucky’s expression softened just the slightest. He shrugged, trying to hide the warmth he felt spreading through him. “Didn’t want to ruin your sleep, sunshine.”

A small, genuine smile spread across your face as you stood up and wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. “Thank you, Bucky.”

He froze for a split second, caught off guard by the sudden affection. Then, slowly, his arms came around you, pulling you into a hug of his own. His voice was gruff as he mumbled, “Yeah, yeah.”

For a moment, everything was still. The harshness that usually clung to him was nowhere to be found, replaced by something softer, warmer, and something he wasn’t ready to fully acknowledge yet.

For now, he’d take all of the teasing, even if it meant chasing down Sam and Steve every day. Because if it meant getting to see that sunshine smile of yours, it was all worth it.

Every single time.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @princess-lil-spidey @sapphirebarnes @mgchaser @sparklystarsandstrawberries @arcadia-smith @rnurse-kole @juliebluehufflepuff

If you'd like to be added to my taglist

Much love x

- Maeve

[andvys]

The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter one

⭐︎ Welcome and Goodbye

Warnings: hurt/no comfort, angst, mentions of death, gore, post apocalypse, mentions of being drugged, mentions of SA (not actually happening here), allusions to sex trafficking, dark themes, mean!Steve, grumpy!Steve, grumpy x sunshine

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve can't stand your presence, won't accept his friends' pleading to let you stay with them, nothing will change his mind, he wants you gone... he really does.

Word count: 7.5k

Author's note: first chapter ya'll, I know there isn't much action yet but trust me when I say it's gonna get wild in here. @hellfire--cult is my assistant as always, so don't forget about her, she proofreads AND she writes with me (don't listen to her)

⭐︎ series masterlist

⭐︎ prologue

☀︎

It’s not the nightmares that wake you from your sleep this morning, it’s not the lingering fear and the anxiety this world has brought upon you, it’s the silence, the ray of sunlight peeking through the curtains that Nancy had closed last night. The mattress is soft beneath you, the covers are warm, your hair is sprawled over the pillow under your head, smelling of shampoo, floral and sweet, a luxury in this world, to smell nice, to be clean, to wake up in safety, fully rested, you can’t remember the last time you woke up like this, you can’t remember ever waking up like this since the world has ended, and every day you find yourself missing your small apartment you left abandoned in New York. You wonder what happened to it, if it was one of the buildings that burned down after the big cities were bombed, when the government, the military still thought that the end of the world could be stopped, that the monsters could be stopped. 

You don’t look back a lot, there is no point to it, to grieve something that will never come back again but a part of you feels sad for the girl you were before the evil had spread, before you had to adapt to the ugliness this world has brought, before you had to accept that the real monsters weren’t the creatures. 

A sinking feeling takes over when you register the voices downstairs, loud and angry, filled with rage and hatred – hatred for you, for no reason at all. 

The lump in your throat grows, bigger and bigger each passing second. 

He doesn’t want you here, and it didn’t change overnight. 

You swallow harshly, and throw the covers off yourself, your feet hit the cold ground when you stand up. You look around the room, Nancy’s room, that she kindly let you stay in. You find the clothes she picked out for you, probably in one of the abandoned houses. You reach for the pants, a pair of denim jeans, you grab your belt and your thigh holster, surprised that it’s still on the desk where you had left it last night, a part of you expected Steve to take it from you and only give it back when you are by the gates and ready to leave this place, like he wants you to. 

It felt nice to be around people again, people your age, ones who didn’t turn you away or had ill intentions for you. Eddie and Nancy were sweet and welcoming, they provided food and a place to stay, they made conversation, the way people used to do before all this. 

It makes you sick, knowing you have to leave today, by yourself, to know that you won’t get a good night’s sleep again, to know that you won’t wake up so peacefully tomorrow morning – if there will be one for you. 

You throw the black shirt on, before you lean down towards the different pairs and sizes of shoes she had left here for you. They are different from your converse, which have too many holes in them already, the sole is wearing off. They used to be your favorite pair but it’s time to abandon them now too, you pick a pair of combat boots this time and tie the laces tightly. 

You stop by the bathroom first, to wash your face and brush your teeth, you drown out the angry voices that belong to Steve and Nancy, you know they are fighting because of you. She wants you to stay, he wants you to leave, he doesn’t care to hide his distaste. 

You stare at your reflection in the mirror, taking in the sight of yourself. You haven’t changed much, you think. Your hair got longer, you lost weight but that isn’t a surprise to you, you have gone days without food or even water, too many nights you struggled to fall asleep because of the hunger and the emptiness in your stomach.

A sigh escapes you, a sad one, you know what is waiting for you downstairs. 

“Steve, she is all alone, we can’t just let her go like that!” You hear Nancy say when you slowly make your way towards the staircase. 

“You know we have a supply limit. We rationed water and food for three people only, and now we would have to do it for one more?” Steve scoffs, and from what you have seen of him yesterday, you can imagine the look on his face and how he is crossing his arms over his chest, stubbornly. 

“No one else would take her in! Everyone left in Hawkins are old people who can’t even fend for themselves properly–”

“She didn’t ask to stay,” Steve interrupts, not allowing her to finish her sentence. “Besides, I give two shits about her, Nance.”

His words shouldn’t sting the way they do, he is nothing but a stranger, his harsh words shouldn’t even touch you… and yet they do. 

“What is wrong with you? You weren’t like this at all!” Nancy’s voice seems shocked, taken aback by the words that just left his mouth. 

You hear his scoff, his humorless chuckle, “oh really? I thought you weren’t like this either! Before you would have threatened a stranger with a gun to their head, and now you let some random girl just use our things and let her stay!?” 

“She seems nice, Steve!” 

A part of you wants to run down the stairs and break apart the fight, you never planned on staying, you never wanted this to happen, all you wanted was shelter for the night and a new map, you never meant for this to happen. 

You stand frozen in place, holding onto the railing of the stairs. 

“She ain’t going to replace Barb if that’s what you think.” 

Silence follows after, no words are spoken, nothing, just silence, for a minute or two. 

You know he’s hit a nerve, you know he aimed for the kill with that. It fills you with guilt, knowing that this is only about you, that your presence prompted him to throw something at her that he knew would hurt her. 

“You’re bringing Barb into this!? Are you seriously bringing back what happened to Barb?!” Nancy’s voice of disbelief rings in your ears. 

“I am not bringing anything back, all I’m saying is she is not a pet, or a doll to keep you both fucking company!” 

“She is a person!” 

“She is a nuisance!” 

You suck in a sharp breath, that one stung. You know you aren’t welcome here, you aren’t – weren’t welcome anywhere, it never really hurt to be turned away, so you won’t let it hurt now either. 

You start making your way down the stairs, slowly and quietly. You ignore the beating of your heart as you step into the hallway and make your way into the dining room to get to the kitchen where the silence is suddenly deafening. You step where they can’t see you and you take in the sight of both of them as they stand across from one another, he is leaning against the kitchen island, glaring at the girl that welcomed you with nothing but kindness. Her arms are crossed, her eyes are burning with anger and disbelief, but mostly with disappointment. 

“Wow Steve, you sure sound like your dad there.” 

You watch and wait for his reaction, you see the way he tenses up, the way he furrows his eyebrows and frowns at her, he huffs loudly and drops his arms to his sides, shaking his head at her. 

“See? She comes along and we fight, when we never fucking did this whole year!”

“How could there be any time to fight when we spent it grieving–”

Before she can say anymore, and reveal something that they might not want you to know about, you clear your throat and step into the kitchen, making them both snap their heads towards you. 

“You guys don’t have to fight because of me, I’m not staying here, that was never my intention. I was passing through, like I told you yesterday,” you tell him, looking at him only for a second, not wanting to look any longer and see the false pity. “I appreciate what you have done for me, Nancy. You and Eddie, you have done more for me than I could have asked for, but I’ll be on my way now, and out of your hair,” you mumble the last part to the man before you, who is avoiding your eyes now, choosing to look at the hardwood floor instead. 

“Good, got your map?” Steve asks, not caring about saying anything else to you. 

Nancy scoffs at him, clenching her fists, she shakes her head. She can’t believe what she is hearing, what he is saying, the hatred in his eyes he holds for someone he doesn’t even know, how he is ready to turn someone away and send them to their death, because this is what is waiting for you behind these walls. 

You nod your head and eye him slowly, his jaw is clenched, his eyes filled with something you can’t fully read, you see the disbelief in her whole expression – he hasn’t always been like this, the shock in her voice proved it, you wonder what happened to him, you wonder what made him so… cruel. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna go now–”

“What’s happening here?” Eddie’s voice interrupts you, he stops beside you, wiping motor oil off his hands with a dark blue bandana, he scans your faces, notices the tension in the room, right away. One look at Nancy and the deep frown and he knows what is happening. 

You can’t even open your mouth to answer his question before Steve beats you to it. 

“She was just leaving,” he glares at his friend, warning him with his eyes not to try anything, but Eddie isn’t like Nancy, he won’t fight, he won’t argue, he simply won’t listen to him. “Got the map, right?” He asks again. 

“You know what,” Eddie starts, already grinning at his friend. “I lost my last copy. And requesting one in the community takes a long while, which I already took care of. Callaway is preparing one but you know… gotta scavenge to find a good updated one and that ass is a fucking sloth.” 

Steve pushes himself off the counter, furrowing his brows, he purses his lips as he shakes his head in confusion, “what– are you lying?” 

“Absolutely not,” Eddie shakes his head, already stepping closer to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder, not letting you go anywhere. “So, no. Sweetheart here can’t leave without a map. The only copy is the one for when we leave–”

Steve sighs again, probably for the tenth time this morning. 

“We’re not leaving.” 

“--And we’re not giving our personal map away so… until there is a spare one, she has to stay.” 

Your cheeks heat up when Steve glances at you, the hazel in his eyes darkens, the frown on his face deepens. You feel weird beneath his gaze, you don’t like this, you don’t like staying somewhere you’re not wanted but Eddie is persistent, Nancy is too, and you don’t want to be by yourself again, not yet. You can’t look into his eyes any longer though, or at his face, so you look down instead. 

Steve knows not to argue with Eddie, it’s no use, not with him, the look on his face tells him that Eddie is ready to bite his face off if he even dares to utter another word about you leaving. He still doesn’t hide his distaste for you, and he scoffs at his friends, looking between Nancy and Eddie, he shakes his head in disappointment, “you know, this is exactly what will get you both killed,” he grumbles before he storms past you and out of the house. 

Eddie murmurs words under his breath as he shakes his head, before he turns to you, noticing the frown on your face, the uncertainty. 

“Come on, you are helping me with something today.”

You finally look up again, glancing at him first, at the kind smile directed at you, the warmth in his eyes so different from the coldness in Steve’s. Nancy offers you a small smile too but the tears in her eyes aren’t hard to miss, the sadness in her features, the disappointment – maybe you should have left when he told you to. 

“I– um, I can find a map somewhere else, I’ll go–”

“No.” Nancy shakes her head, “you’re staying, that’s final.” 

“He doesn’t want me here,” you speak, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“I want you here,” she argues, shrugging her shoulders. 

“So do I.” Eddie nudges your shoulder, still smiling just as softly as before. “You’re staying until he– we’re ready to leave, we’ll go together when the time is right.” 

You don’t understand why they want you here so badly, why they even care as much as they do, you understand him more, better. 

You welcome their company with open arms though, appreciating it more than anything. You have been on your own for too long, you hated every minute of it, no matter how normal it became to you, you hated it, you don’t want it anymore. 

Eddie doesn’t wait for you to say yes – he won’t let you leave anyways, even if you insisted. 

“So… have you ever gone fishing?” Eddie asks you, beginning to lead you away when he hears Nancy’s soft sniffle, knowing she won’t want comfort or sympathy from him or you. There is only one she would want it from, but that one is long gone, so the only thing he or anyone can do is give her the space that she needs in moments like these. 

He shuts the door behind him.

-

The wind is soft against your skin, warm and pleasant, the sun shines down on you, bright and golden rays hitting the lake and the grass surrounding you, it doesn't feel like fall yet. There is a boat by the shore, slightly moving every time the waves slosh against it. 

Eddie is humming beside you, enjoying the warm day, the silence. It’s easy to forget what’s out there when you take in your peaceful surroundings and breathe in the fresh air. You remember the rotten smell in the first few months before winter came, you remember the dead birds on the ground, the apples that fell from the trees, infested by maggots, it was disgusting and you constantly had to wear a mask as to not gag after every breath you took of this rotten world. 

You feel sad every time you think of how you will never smell flowers again or grass after the rain, how you will never see a field of sunflowers again, even when a part of you always hoped that the one behind your house was somehow spared by this world – it would have to be a miracle and miracles are something rare nowadays. 

You wonder what this place looked like before, if any flowers grew surrounding the field in front of the lake, if it was filled with people in the summer, if any teenagers have snuck down here to throw bonfire parties, to jump into the water in the middle of the night, to share a first kiss, to come here to be alone, to cry, to enjoy the silence, to enjoy the view. 

Places that were once filled with people, are now abandoned, haunted with the sound of what once was, of something that will never be again. It’s not only the world that has changed, people have too. 

“Do you wanna try?” Eddie asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

“Hm?” You tilt your head to the side, furrowing your brows at the curly haired man before you. 

He chuckles, noticing the confused frown on your face, the lost look in your eyes. You were distracted, far away from here. 

“I know I’m handsome, didn’t think you’d be so distracted by my beauty,” he smirks and rolls his shoulders. 

You can’t hold back the giggle that falls from your lips, the playfully arrogant look on his face, the plastered smirk. You have only known him for a couple of hours, yet you can already tell that this man loves to tease people.

“I was actually distracted by my surroundings, I was wondering what this place looked like before… you know.” 

Eddie nods, his smiling fading a bit, he looks down at the rod in his hand, “it was nice, I mean it still is, considering everything,” he pauses, pointing at the big willow tree that was somehow left untouched by this new world. “Flowers used to grow right here though, lots of ‘em. Bet you would’ve loved that.” 

A smile grazes your face, you nod at him, “I know I would, there used to be this big field of sunflowers behind my parents’ house, it was beautiful. I got lost in it as a child though… once or twice.” 

Eddie chuckles at that, “or thrice?” 

You squint your eyes and smile sheepishly at him, making him chuckle again, “that’s cute.” 

You nudge his shoulder with your own, “you think me getting lost is cute?” 

“Hey, you’ve come a long way since then, look at you, traveling through the country without getting lost,” he teases, nudging you back. 

“Who says I didn’t get lost a few times? I might’ve taken one too many wrong routes and got off the path.” 

“Oh no, sweets,” Eddie shakes his head at you, “I think you’ve taken the right ones, they lead you right here and now you’re with us, you’re on the right path.” 

Eddie can see the bit of confusion in your eyes, like you don’t understand him, just like you don’t understand Nancy, he knows there must be reasons for that, he can’t even imagine them though. 

You look away from his warm eyes, to his arms, to the tattoos and the scars that linger on his skin, his hand is holding the rod tightly, his fingers are adorned with rings, you can tell that they are a part of him, just like the tattoos, every single one of them has a meaning. You look back into his eyes – Eddie is still a stranger to you but there is a certain energy around him, you can’t help but feel safe with him. 

“You are really kind, Eddie. You and Nancy, I appreciate that a lot.” 

The tone in your voice is sad, he can tell that much, he can see it too when you cast your eyes on the ground. 

“Hey, I think we could use some kindness in this world, don’t you think?” He smiles softly. 

Your lips curl upwards, you nod slowly, though you stay quiet for another second or two. 

“Steve doesn’t seem to share that opinion with you…” You murmur quietly, a little scared to touch that topic but still curious. You heard what Nancy had said to him, it left you wondering all day. “He is not very kind, and he doesn’t want me here.”

“He’ll come around,” Eddie says, shrugging. “Besides, we’re not staying either, as soon as the RV is done, we’re leaving, together.” 

Nancy had told you about it, about the community, a safe haven, somewhere far away, on the shores of California. Her family is there, her mother and her siblings, Mike and Holly, and other survivors who were led away from here by a man named Hopper. For months they hadn’t heard from them, didn’t know if they had made it there or not. Steve was positive that they had died just like everyone else did – but then, a few weeks ago, the radio station in their living room had finally given a signal, after months and months of waiting, it finally came to life, and through came the voice of Dustin Henderson, Mike’s friend. 

Eddie had started fixing the RV right after. He didn’t want to waste more time staying in Hawkins, in the small gated residential that is now only filled with a few old people who refuse to leave their homes behind, they will die here and they’re okay with that. Eddie and Nancy aren’t. 

“Nancy told me Nevada is your destination?” Eddie asks, continuing after you nod. “It’s on our way, we’ll go there together.” 

You like the sound of that, you like the thought of not having to continue your travels by yourself, because it gets quite lonely, sometimes unsettling. 

You want to go home, to your family, to your parents and your brother. You know that there is a great chance that they have left, that they have found some place else to stay but the last time you have spoken to them, when you were still able to call, when you were still in your apartment in New York, they were set on staying at the house. Your dad said that it was safe to stay, that gates and fences were built around the town, around the neighbourhood, nothing could come through. 

“I’d like that.” You wish you could smile, you wish you could believe it, but you know that Steve doesn’t want to leave and you can’t imagine Eddie and Nancy leaving without him. “Steve doesn’t want to leave though… why is that?”

At that, Eddie falls quiet for a moment, his back hunches, his lips curl into a frown, sadness flashes in his features. 

“He uh,” he pauses to take a deep breath, “he doesn’t want to leave his best friend, Robin.” 

When he looks up at you, he notices how you get lost in your thoughts for a moment, millions of questions flash before you, questions you want to ask but won’t, out of respect. You open your mouth a few times, though no words come out.

There is this feeling inside of you, that heavy yet hollow feeling that takes home in your chest that tells you everything you need to know, it’s a feeling you have mistaken for anxiety before, when you didn’t know yet what it actually was. 

“...Why isn’t Robin going too?”

Eddie hesitates, turning to look at the lake, he takes a few deep breaths, blinks as he stares ahead. 

“She uh, she wants to stay here.”

“Oh.” 

Eddie tries to smile, though it seems forced. 

“But you don’t want to, and neither does Nancy,” you point out, knowing that she can’t wait to get out of here. 

Eddie shakes his head, pressing his lips together as he breathes in, “no, I wanna be with my friends and my uncle.” 

“He’s in the community too?” 

Now he smiles genuinely, “yeah, he is there. Bet he is on a boat all day, catching fish for everyone. That’s something he always dreamed of actually, living by the ocean, going on boat tours, he never got the chance to before, when he wasn’t struggling with money, he was taking care of me… I can’t believe the world had to end for him to live a better life.” 

You smile sadly, you can see that his uncle means a lot to him, you can tell that he misses him strongly. 

“Yeah, well… life is weird, most people don’t fit into this world, most people are guided by fear and hatred now but… some have it the other way around, I suppose, as crazy as that sounds.”

Eddie nods at that, a soft chuckle falls from his lips as he looks back at the water, “honestly, this still feels like a fever dream.”

It did to you too, it felt like a dream you desperately wanted to wake up from, a nightmare like none you have ever experienced before. You don’t even remember what it was that made you realize that your old life was over, that nothing would go back to the way it was, that this was your life now and for always – perhaps it was the evilness that had awoken in most people you have encountered, or maybe it was the gruesome ways you watched people getting killed, or maybe it was the loneliness and the lack of life on the streets. 

You doubt that Eddie had changed much, you feel like he had always been this way, kind and openhearted. 

You wonder about Steve though, you have heard what Nancy said to him. 

“What uh, what about Steve? Was he always like this?”

“You mean was he always an asshole?” Eddie asks, chuckling. 

Your face flushes at that, and you quickly shake your head. 

“No, I-I mean–”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Eddie tilts his head, eyes flashing with amusement, “he is kind of an asshole but to answer your question, no, he wasn’t always like this, he was always protective but now it’s more than that, he’s… everything is a threat to him now, everything he doesn’t know is danger.”

“So… I’m a threat to him?” 

Eddie chuckles again, he shakes his head. 

“I don’t think you could look like one even if you tried. He is just wary, he’ll come around though.” 

You huff at his words, frowning a little, you’re well aware that people think you’re an easy target. Your experiences from the past, ones that happened not too long ago even, are proof of that. 

“Well, even if he saw me as a threat or anyone else for that matter, I wouldn’t blame him.”

Eddie furrows his brows, “this world, the monsters are the real enemy.”

You once thought so too, back when you were still naive, still untouched by this world. 

“There are worse things than monsters out there, Eddie.” 

There’s no smile on your face now, no softness in your eyes, the tone in your voice is serious. A chill runs down his spine, something about the way you said it, worries him. He wants to ask, he wants to know what you are talking about, though a part of him already knows the answer to that. 

“I–” Before he can utter another word, he watches the way your eyes widen as you touch his shoulder without forcing your eyes away from the lake. 

“You got one! I think you got one!” You point at the line that keeps jerking forward. 

“Oh!” Eddie jumps up, lifting the rod back up in the air, he starts pulling the fish up. His tongue pokes out between his teeth, a look of concentration taking over his face now. 

“You got it, you got it!” You clap your hands excitedly, making him chuckle beside you as you jump on the grass. 

“Alright,” Eddie murmurs, not even struggling against the strength that keeps pulling at the rod, “get the net for me, please.”

You bend down and reach for the net that he threw down earlier. You pick it up, and follow him to the shore. 

“You’re next, sweetheart,” Eddie grins at you, “gonna let you catch the second fish.” 

-

“That’s one big fucking fish! Good job, Eds!” Nancy exclaims with joy as she serves the big plate in the middle of the table. 

Steve looks up at Eddie to see if he is smiling proudly, instead he sees him scowling. 

“It… wasn’t me.” 

Steve and Nancy slowly turn their heads to you, to see you wiggling in your seat, excitedly. 

“I caught the mackerels,” Eddie grumbles as he reaches for the freshly baked bread, “she caught that one.”

Steve hides his surprise well, though he still looks at you as he sips on his whiskey before he reaches for the bowl of cooked potatoes. 

“Wait, you fish?” Nancy asks as she sits down beside you. 

You shake your head, smiling at your new friend, “nope! But I’m strong and I learn fast!” 

You ignore Steve’s sighs and his incoherent words that he grumbles under his breath. You look at him from the side though, catching him glaring at you. 

“I can tell!” Nancy chuckles as she turns to Eddie, “you’ve got some competition.” 

“I fucking know, Nance,” Eddie mumbles, pretending to be mad, like he didn’t cheer when you caught that fish. He turns to Steve, who not only fills his own plate but also Eddie’s and then Nancy’s. 

It’s a sweet gesture, one that shows you that he isn’t as heartless as he pretends to be. 

“Thanks man,” Eddie grins, to which Steve doesn’t even smile or look at him, he turns to you though, looking into your eyes intensely – no smile, no kindness, nothing. It’s hard to look past his cold behaviour, to take him in fully, he is so robotic and rude, even when he isn’t speaking to you, he is mean, you can’t see anything else but that. You don’t expect him to put dinner on your plate like he does for his friends, you are not welcome here in his eyes but you also don’t expect him to hand you the bowl. 

You reach for it, taking it from his hands, he immediately withdraws when your fingers touch his, like you are venom. 

“I can take you to the greenhouse tomorrow!” Nancy smiles as she picks up her fork, stabbing it into the steamed carrots. “I’ll show you our crops, we’ve got a lot of carrots growing, right now!” 

Steve glares at her, he wants you gone by the morning, he’s made it loud and clear when he came back earlier while you were out fishing with Eddie. 

Nancy ignores him, Eddie does too, he is too busy taking apart the fish on his plate. But you, you can’t unsee the disapproving look on his face, it makes you squirm in your seat, it takes away your appetite too. 

“I’m still surprised by how much food you have–”

“It isn’t much,” Steve interrupts you as he takes a bite of his food, his eyes practically pierce through your soul, making you cower. He acts like you will take away everything. 

Nancy’s angry eyes do little, she even kicks him under the table but he ignores her. 

“It’s much for someone who had nothing for months. Besides, I didn’t think that vegetables and fruit could still grow, there’s a lot of rotten land out there.” 

There is no regret or guilt in his eyes, he can tell that you hadn’t had much to eat, that yesterday’s dinner and all the food on the table tonight, is a real feast for you. 

“I’m sure there are other places out there that have more food, you’ll find your way there.” 

Eddie sighs loudly beside him, shaking his head, though to keep the peace at this table, he bites his tongue. 

Nancy leans back in her chair, she clenches her jaw, not hiding the anger she has got directed at him. 

“Yeah… I’m sure I will,” You murmur quietly before you pick up your fork and start eating, forcing the food down that you were excited for. 

He looks down at you, not blinking, not moving. You chew your food slowly unlike the night before. You tuck your hair behind your ear and pull the sleeve of your sweater over your free hand. There are dark circles under your eyes, like you haven’t slept in days – and you probably haven’t until last night, even that wasn’t enough to catch up on all that you have lost. You probably haven’t had a warm meal in weeks, maybe months. You probably haven’t felt safe since the day the world has ended. But he can’t care, he shouldn’t, it will only make things complicated, it will only do damage. 

“We will,” Nancy exclaims. 

“What?” Steve asks, forcing his gaze away from you. 

“I said, we will find a place like that out there, in fact we will find our way to California together, she is coming with us as soon as the RV is ready.” Nancy says with a loud and determined tone, not caring to go soft on him anymore. 

Steve slams his fork down, making you flinch. He stands up, nearly causing his chair to fall over. He grabs his gear that he threw on the coffee table earlier. 

“Where are you going?” Nancy frowns, also getting up. 

“To Robin. I can’t believe you two are still going on about this,” he scoffs, taking one last look at you before he storms out of the house, slamming the door behind him. 

You sit quietly, looking down at your plate, no longer feeling the hunger in your stomach. 

Nancy sighs loudly, she looks up at the ceiling, her jaw still clenched. She sits down again, and picks her fork back up. 

You lift your head and glance at Eddie, “is Robin…”

“The best friend who doesn’t want to leave the community, yeah.” He glances at Nancy, for only a split second, before he looks down again and continues eating. 

Nancy clears her throat before she looks at you, she knows you’re curious about her, about why she isn’t here, why she isn’t coming too. 

“Her parents are really strict, they don’t allow her to leave Hawkins,” she explains, hesitating for a moment, “and… Steve doesn’t want to leave without her, so…”

“Oh,” you nod in understanding, squinting your eyes as you look at his empty space. He is so angry, so hateful towards everything and everyone. “Is he… are they like in love or something?” 

Eddie laughs at that, shaking his head, “mmm… no… trust me, birdie’s type is more… people like you.” 

Nancy looks down with a smile and flushed cheeks. 

You tilt your head to the side, “oh… you mean non grumpy?” 

They both chuckle in amusement, the questioning and innocent look in your eyes is funny to them both. 

It takes you a moment to realize why they are so amused by your question, and you grow flustered once you understand. 

“...Oh!” 

That still doesn’t answer your question about him. 

“Now eat up, sweets,” Eddie says, gesturing to your nearly untouched plate, “forget that grumpy asshole.” 

Nancy looks down with wide eyes, taking a deep breath as she starts eating again too, “kinda hard to when he acts like this.” 

Yeah, it is hard to forget that man and his glaring eyes, the cold shoulder and the mean comments that are meant to drive you away as fast as possible. You know he is probably counting down the hours until you’re gone and he doesn’t have to see you anymore. 

Tomorrow you will be alone again, all by yourself, with no one to talk to, with no one to laugh with. You will be back on the road and you will turn around after nearly every step that you will take, you won’t have a warm dinner and a hot shower, you won’t have that feeling of safety, you won’t sleep again, you will spend another winter fighting for your life -- if you even make it that far.

So, you try, you try to forget him, you try to enjoy this moment with Eddie and Nancy, you try for as long as you can, even when it gets late and Nancy excuses herself to take a shower while you and Eddie clean the kitchen together. 

A comfortable silence settles between you both, you wipe down the counter while he washes the dishes. You can tell that he is thinking hard about something, you noticed that he always frowns really strongly when he gets lost in his own head. 

You grab a fresh towel and lean against the counter beside him, reaching for one of the washed plates, and you start drying it. 

“Can I ask you something?” He finally breaks the silence, and you know you’re about to find out what went on in his head. 

“Sure.” 

“Earlier you said that there are worse things than monsters out there,” he pauses and puts the sponge down, putting the washed cutlery on the counter for you to dry, he wipes his hands with the towel that was thrown over his shoulder and he crosses his arms over his chest when he turns his whole body to face you. “What’d you mean by that?”

A quiet ‘oh’ falls from your lips. You don’t answer his question right away, taking your time to finish drying the plates. Eddie doesn’t push you, waiting for you to be ready, and when you are, you turn to face him, as well. 

“I meant people.” 

He only raises his eyebrows at you. 

“People are bad, Eddie. You can’t even imagine what it’s like out there,” you sigh, not hiding the fear in your eyes. “People will do anything to survive, they will take anything they want, anyone they want…” 

His brown eyes that were previously filled with confusion and curiosity are blank for a moment, his eyebrows stay furrowed until your words fully dawn on him and his features pull into a look of shock, understanding. 

“Oh,” he whispers softly as his arms fall to his sides. 

“There are no rules out there, anyone can get away with anything. I’ve seen people kill others for cans of food, for ammo or water. I’ve come across people who didn’t take me in so kindly, all I got was stale bread and a cell to sleep in for the night and those weren’t even the worst ones.” 

Eddie frowns, he doesn’t open his mouth to speak, not knowing what to say yet. 

“I’ve heard rumors… of young girls and boys being sold, traded for weapons and other things. I didn’t want to believe it.” 

His face pales at your words, he shakes his head slowly, disbelief is written all over his face. 

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, take a deep breath, you try to ignore the chills that run down your spine still from that night. 

“A few days ago, maybe a week… I was looking for food at a gas station when a sick person snuck up on me, nearly ripped a hole into my head when it grabbed at my hair. I fell onto broken glass,” you pause to show him the wound on your shoulder, “that fucker nearly got me, I couldn’t reach my gun fast enough, I thought I was done for… Someone saved me, a man.”

Eddie swallows, bracing himself for what he is about to hear. 

“Scared me more than that sick person, honestly. I didn’t trust him, but he helped me, got me alcohol and bandages for my wound, and offered me water and food. He told me that he lived in a nearby community, that his wife and his kids were there too. I was naive. I was tired and desperate for shelter, I fell for it and I almost paid for my stupidity.” You pause, feeling your heart race from just telling the story. “I had a bad feeling but I still got into his car, and it only took two minutes for him to pull out a syringe. I knew right then and there what I had gotten myself into.” 

“Jesus,” Eddie whispers, eyeing you worriedly. 

“I fought, I-I don’t know how I got myself out of that one but I did.” 

You try not to think of the way you had almost lost that fight, how his hands grabbed at you, how scared you felt, how you thought that your heart was gonna jump out of your throat, how he nearly stabbed that needle into your neck if you hadn’t managed to kick your heel into his groin, buying you that time that you needed to get out of there and jump out of the moving car. 

“I ran into the woods, I didn’t want to get back into that town and risk him coming back for me… with more men. I was lost for days, at one point I thought that I wouldn’t find my way back out of those woods but I did, I made it out and I got here. Steve was the first person, the first man I stumbled into after that. I-I was a little scared… but he looked harmless compared to the one before, and even if he wasn’t, I would’ve taken him over anyone else.” You admit, looking down at your hands. 

Eddie is stunned, he doesn’t know what to say after all of this. He is shocked and horrified. He knew that people were cruel, even before all of this, but he never thought that they would turn into this. He looks down at you, sadly, he is glad that worse didn’t happen but what you went through was bad enough. 

“People are like that…?”

You nod, “yeah… it’s rough out there… when you’re alone.”

Eddie didn’t want you to leave before but now? He would fight Steve to make you stay. 

He places his hand on your shoulder, squeezing softly, he looks into your eyes, giving you a promising look, “you’re not alone anymore, alright? You’ve got us–”

“But Steve–”

“It doesn’t matter what he said, he wouldn’t let you out there either if he knew about this. He is not that cruel, I promise. You’re with us now and you ain’t leaving without us.” 

Eddie makes a promise, and you can tell by the look in his eyes that he won’t break it. 

“Okay,” you whisper, smiling softly at him before you turn away and pick up your task again. 

Eddie keeps looking at you though, with a smile that slowly fades and eyes that flash with sadness. He has only known you for one day but he couldn’t help but grow protective of you already, just the way he felt when he was still in high school and he took in all the lost sheep who were looking for shelter from all those hungry wolves. 

He won’t let you out there on your own, he won’t let Steve throw you out to the wolves who have gotten even hungrier. 

Eddie had dealt with so much guilt when he was dragged into this world two years ago. He had no chance of saving her, but he can save you. He knows you will die if you go out there alone, with or without a map. You can’t depend on your luck alone. It got you this far, but how much more is there for you to use?

And as he chats away with you again, to distract you and himself from the sudden fear of what else they might encounter once they leave the community, you two don’t hear the creak of the stairs as someone goes to their room after spending the last minutes perched on the kitchen’s doorway.

Someone whose eyebrows were furrowed in the middle with worry, with guilt. He didn’t know it was that bad out there. He didn’t know the monsters weren’t the only ones killing, and from what you told Eddie, the bite of a demobat seemed a far better outcome than being taken away by some random people for them to do, god knows what with you.

Steve’s heart was torn as he went into his room, sighing as he dropped his bag to the floor. He felt his stomach twisting with emotions, with nerves, with feelings that he couldn’t quite figure out at the moment. It was all too dangerous, everything was. But maybe now that Eddie knew how dangerous moving around was, the idea of leaving was no longer brought up to him.

And you… He wants to strangle you.

-

Your feet drag you down the stairs, rubbing your eye lazily as you try to wipe the sleep away from you. You kept thinking of the conversation with Eddie, and you wondered how in the world were you going to be in the same place as someone who just didn’t want you breathing their same oxygen. There was no way you could possibly stay a long time with someone like that. 

The smell of coffee filled your nostrils, something you just couldn’t believe you were smelling yet. Something you never thought you would smell ever again. Nancy must be awake, and you couldn’t wait to ask her what you could help with today, but the moment you crossed the kitchen’s doorway, you were surprised to see brown brushed hair, a broad back facing you, wearing a plain white t-shirt and some black sweatpants. 

Steve turned around, his eyes clashing with yours for just one second before placing a cup on the counter, filled with coffee.

“We have milk, but we save it. I can only offer black coffee and some sugar.” You were not expecting him to hand you coffee. You were not expecting a good morning from him at all, and for you, this gesture was his way of saying it.

“I– It’s okay…” Your hands grabbed onto the cup and then poured six spoonfuls of sugar, making Steve wince at the sight.

“God, just like Munson–” You heard him scoff as he turned away from you and your eyes looked at his broad back as you watched him pour coffee into his own cup. You immediately brought the cup to your lips as he turned to face you again.

“T–Thank you.” His jaw clenched for a second, taking a sip of his coffee at the same time you did. Silence filled the room and you could feel just how awkward everything was. What were you supposed to say now? Should you be the one to tell him you might be staying? That Eddie is not letting you leave? Your mouth opened only for his voice to interrupt you.

“If you are planning on staying here, you’ll have to do chores and tasks like we all do.” 

“Huh?” Your eyes widened as you looked at him. He was looking at his coffee as if it were the most interesting thing in the world before his sharp gaze turned to you.

“We shift our tasks daily. We don’t do the same thing everyday. Patrolling is a two men job–”

“You were alone that day–”

“Eddie had an emergency and it was time I had to go home anyways. There’s fishing, cooking, cleaning, gardening, patroling.” You were blinking absentmindedly at him as he kept talking and you couldn’t believe he was letting you stay. With conditions, but he was letting you fucking stay.

“Wait, are you serious?” Your voice was small as you asked the questions, “I can stay?”

“Who’s staying?” Nancy walked in, her hair a matter mess on her head, which made Steve scoff in disapproval, only for her to shrug at him as she went to get a cup from the cupboard.

“She is staying.” Nancy almost dropped the cup as she heard Steve’s words, her eyes widening as she looked at him and then back at you. “And you better not make me fucking regret this.”

His eyes were locked with yours and for some reason he felt a shiver running down his spine. Something that was telling him ‘you did the right thing’. He better have. Whatever just told him he made the right decision, better not fuck him over. Nancy turned to jump in excitement your way, smiling as she started to tell you what tasks you could take on, while you stared between her and him, not understanding what was going on yet.

Maybe he can convince you to stay, and maybe that is the key to making Eddie and Nancy stay. To forget the idea of leaving Hawkins. He can’t leave Robin. He doesn’t understand how Eddie and Nancy can easily leave her behind. He just hopes you don’t do the exact opposite.

God, he really does hope he did the right thing.

☀︎

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @thesickestqrmydcll @tvserie-s-world @crispystarfishhottub @sophal22 @definitionwanderlust @talkativecarnation @mysticalwoolenfroglegs @ariesandwolves @mortqlprojections

[snowvies]

Mr. Badgley

Penn Badgley x Fem!Reader

summary: you can't stop thinking about your married piano teacher, Mr. Badgley. and one day he slides under the instrument to show you how much he's been thinking about you too.

wc: 1k

cw: age gap (reader 19, Penn late thirties), cheating, piano teacher x student, pussy eating, fingering, female masturbation

Sundays are your favorite days, especially ones like this when the clouds hang low with a murky swirl in the sky. You're nineteen, and college is kicking your ass but you promised yourself you wouldn't think about the papers due when you're here, at Mr. Badgley's house.

You found his ad on craigslist, piano lessons..fifty bucks an hour you would've scrolled past it until you saw him, and his family. You felt safer in a random man's house when his wife and newborn baby were in the same room with you. So you started going there, ever since your freshman year.

Your raggedy car rolllsss to stop and you get out to see the lonely house, picked apart to be perfect, not a single thing out of place... except yourself.

His wife answers the door a few minutes after knocking, the cold biting your bare legs as you run in for warmth, completely missing her scowl at your lack of kicking the mat with your dirty boots.

Mr. Badgley offers you a warm smile, hair combed perfectly, sweater ironed and pants straight like every weekend. His eyes always look a little empty when you come. His wife jingles her keys around her finger as she readjusts the baby on her hip

"I'm going out, be done when I'm home" the same line. Every week. You smile her way but she doesn't pay mind to it, leaving you and her husband to play. you turn to Mr. Badgley but he's already walking to the connecting living room of the tiny house, sitting on the worn bench as he slides the fallboard up.

You sit next to him as he wears an excited smile, when he's like this, playing with you, it doesn't seem orchestrated by his wife. Every move he makes is analyzed by her, except this. The only reason he's allowed to do this is because they needed the extra money.

"Let's start where we left off last week, yes?" he asked and you nodded, you inhaled the mixture of musk and old books that surrounded the pianist as he began the background cords. his eyes are on you, they shine as his spine relaxes into the music and you begin your part. fingers dancing over keys as you try to remember the pattern

Your eyes squeezed shut once you messed the keys up. He smiles softly and lets a laugh out of his nose at your reaction

"Like this," his larger palm rests on top of yours as he guides your fingers, you nod and try again.

Soon enough an hour passes and you both rise from the bench and you dig into your purse for the fifty bucks you crumpled into it this morning, but, warm hands slide on top of your shoulder and the older man shakes his head.

"No need" he grins and tries to send you off but you insist, grabbing the money but he pushes you out the door.

"I will not have you pay for something that I enjoy just as much, Y/n, have a lovely week" The door softly shuts and you're left stunned.

.

You roll around your dorm bed, restless as the man's words keep ringing in your head. Why didn't he let you pay?

Maybe you're being dramatic. But it isn't like the Badgleys are set either.

You shut your eyes in a huff, suffocating yourself in the pillow under you as you replay the keys in an attempt to lull you asleep

But it isn't just the keys you're thinking about...

It's how his hand guided yours, it's how he looked at you when it was your part to play, it's his scent, it's his being. It's driving you mad.

You arch your back slowly, fingers sliding down your body until you get to your aching core. slick-filled fingers rubbing yourself at the thought of your teacher's hands touching you, grabbing you, loving you.

You moan into the pillow, legs shaking as you cream around your fingers, the thought of him drives you wild.

So just how will you act the next time you see him?

.

Before you know it, it's Sunday and you're back at the Badgleys, with his wife announcing her departure and the formal greetings of you and your teacher, you're back at that bench, side by side.

He starts the cords, and you follow trying to calm your shaking legs as you think about what fueled you that night. You couldn't even look him in the eyes this session.

His hand softly squeezes your bare thigh and you look back at the man.

"You're completely off" he informs you and you don't think your face could get redder.

"I-I'm so sorry...let's try again" you panic but his thumb rubs loving circles on your flesh.

"You usually think the world ends when you mess up, but you kept playing this time, you're mind is somewhere else Ms. Y/n."

"Sorry Mr. Badgley" you murmur

"Talk to me, get it off your chest so we can get back to playing" he smiles and you nod slowly

"...Why didn't you let me pay last time?" you ask, he stops for a moment as the hand on your thigh now rests on his face as he thinks for a moment.

"I just feel like, something so pleasurable shouldn't be bought," he says above a whisper and you feel your entire face glow, and he must have noticed with how he laughs.

"Not those pleasures, Ms. Y/n" he smiles and you don't think you've ever been so embarrassed. But when his laughter stops, his eyes swirl softly into something darker, in that moment you feel exposed to every thought as he eyes you.

He stands, hands finding your shoulders

"Keep playing"

You take a shaky breath as your thighs begin to shake once more, fingers finding the keys as you start the song

"Good," he whispers, his scents overwhelming you now as you feel almost dizzy while playing, you barely notice how he slips under the piano.

"Mr. Badgley, what are you doing?" you gasp as his dark brown eyes gaze up at you

"Keep.playing" he says sternly, and with a swallow, you keep going

He kisses your knees and you feel yourself sticking to your panties as he spreads them apart.

He has a wife. He has a kid. What are you doing?

"You're doing great" he huffs, kissing your thighs, you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment as his fingers dance up to your panties.

He pulls them down slowly, your wetness sticking to the fabric before they are lost in his pockets

Your bare pussy is in front of your teacher's face as he rubs up and down your thighs taking a shaky breath in

You slam the keys as his tongue licks up your pussy, he moans into you before forcing you to scoot closer into his face, his hands wrapping around your ass as he slurps and moans at your cunt.

"Mr.- fuck" you cry, hands climbing to try and stop your moans as your hips buck up to hump his face

"You taste so so good" he groans, making out with your pussy as he sucks at your clit just to tongue fuck your hole

Hot tears flow down your face as he stares up at you, watching you come undone for him.

You shake around him, orgasm approaching closer with every lick, he sucks on your slit before adding a long finger to your hole. You throw your head back as he fingers you, flicking his tongue relentlessly as his finger curls inside you.

You feel him whine and moan against your pussy, and when you look down you see him gripping and grabbing at his hard-on as he eats you out. You cry as that sends you over and you cum around his finger

You're panting as he curls his fingers a few more times before shoving it into his mouth and licking you clean, you're shaking and wide-eyed as hair sticks to your face and he crawls out from under the piano

Right, weren't you two supposed to be playing right now? Isn't his wife about to be home and he's sucking his fingers because they still taste like you?

He helps you off the bench and you stare into the stained cushion but he turns your chin to him before kissing you deeply, tasting yourself on his tongue before breaking it off with a simple

"My wife is on her way...see you in our next session Ms. Y/n"

And you can't wait for next Sunday.

an: lmk how obvious it is idk anything about pianos. This is based on a dream I had last night 😵‍💫🖤 I hope you liked it <333

[reidswrld]

me & you together song.

❛ i’ve been in love with her for ages, and i can’t seem to get it right. ❜

spencer reid x reader.

summary: you’ve always assumed spencer reid’s love language was acts of service. flowers left at your desk. notes written only to you. every tuesday, he gave you your favorite bagel from downtown. you knew he was like this with the rest of the team, too. you didn’t sweat it. you were focused on your job, and your job only. but when multiple instances occur over the course of a case, it’s hard to ignore both of your feelings for each other.

tags: grumpy fem!character x sunshine!spencer reid, friends to lovers, everyone knows but them, the bau literally bets when they’ll get together, no use of y/n, afab character, found family if you squint hard enough, spencer’s obsessed with her but won’t admit it to the public (the public is morgan), based on me & you together song by the 1975 btw, i wrote this while eating a doritos loco taco

word count: 2k

notes: i asked my best friends to give me a character and a trope. happy first post!

When you first landed the job as an agent at the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, you first told yourself not to get too attached. This was a job, after all. A career. A high risk one, that could end in fatalities and wounds that might never heal, cuts that will always bleed for the rest of eternity. Once you made it clear to yourself that you were to be civil with your coworkers —close enough to be friendly, but not enough to go out for drinks on Saturday nights— and most important of all, do your job, and do it damn well, you poured yourself a glass of wine and watched the rest of the season of the sitcom you’ve been meaning to finish.

However, with all of the ups and downs your job gave you, it could not have allowed for you to expect the boisterous chaos that were your coworkers. They welcomed you in not only with open arms, but open minds. They respected your boundaries, your ideas, everything about you. Your attempt at remaining just civil became useless after months, but looking back, how could you have tried any longer? Penelope gave you a big kiss on the cheek every week, exclaiming that she loved your outfits and needed to go shopping with you right that minute. Morgan ruffled your hair whenever he brought you coffee (despite your incessant dismay that now you needed to brush it again). Hotch, though not a fan of public displays, would murmur a reassuring, you’re doing well every time he returned a file back to you. And then there was Reid.

Spencer Reid.

Well, what was there to say about him?

Over time, you’ve assumed that his love language must be acts of service. He brought you a bagel every week, sometimes more, from your favorite bagel shop downtown. Every Tuesday, a poppy seed bagel with extra plain cream cheese, extra toasted, cut in half so you could eat the middle dollop of cream cheese first. He made you mugs of tea whenever it grew past five pm because you told him that you had trouble falling asleep once months ago. Sometimes, small bouquets of wild grown flowers were left on your desk. At first, you thought it was Penelope being extra kind to you, or even Morgan playing a small joke on you. Both denied, but still giggled as you walked away. Whatever that meant. Behind your back, they secretly slipped each other five dollar bills.

You were sure he did the same for the rest of his coworkers, too. You’ve seen him refill coffee pots whenever Emily mentioned starting a new brew, and work extra hard on his reports in his free time to make sure Hotch or JJ didn’t stay too late. You were on the same page, anyway. Friends. Civil. It didn’t matter.

You huffed as you walked into the BAU, which was deemed more of a half jog, half marathon sprint. You hadn’t bothered to check the weather before leaving, and on the walk from the subway station to the office, it had started downpouring. The sudden drops of cold from the sky had caused you to drop your half empty cup of coffee, and you had forgotten to grab the breakfast you made yourself the night before in the fridge. Not even Harry Styles’ album blaring in your ears could have stopped you from turning the morning around. You grumbled simple good morning’s to everyone as you shook off your coat. Expecting to see your desk surrounded with papers that you were too tired to file in their intended drawers yesterday, you instead found a clean one; the papers were stashed in their designated places (in alphabetical order), the pens were compiled in the pouch you bought at Daiso years ago and cherished, even the trash under your desk was taken out. The only thing left to be seen on the wooden desk was a small brown bag that smelled of heaven and happiness and a folded piece of paper. You reached inside to find your usual poppy seed bagel the same as it always was. To make your Tuesday better. For you, always, the note read. You didn’t need to decipher whose scribbles those belonged to. You forgot it was Tuesday.

“Where’s my bagel, lover boy?” Morgan’s voice boomed as the man sat on top of your desk, snatching the bag with a grin. Spencer only swiftly passed by the desk with ease, choosing to make eye contact with the carpet.

“Good morning, Dr. Reid. Happy Tuesday.” Spencer’s eyes divert to yours quickly. He only nods, responding with the same greeting. Happy Tuesday, honey.

Morgan’s laugh carried throughout the room, swinging his legs as he spoke. “You two make me sick, that’s for sure. Can I have some of your bagel?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You furrowed your brow in annoyance, which only made Morgan smile widely.

“Do you need to get your glasses checked again? You know, there’s an optometrist across the street—”

As you started to speak, Hotch walked from his office, announcing a new case and to meet in the room immediately. You got up swiftly, grabbing your bagel from Morgan’s hands with a muttered asshole falling from your lips. It only made Morgan cackle loudly. You remind yourself to write a psych evaluation on Morgan after the case is over with.

On the first day of the case, you realized it was going to be a more difficult one than usual. You didn’t panic. You never do. The second day, you worked harder than ever only to see little to no result. You continued not to sleep. It was like clockwork. Work, coffee, repeat. After three days, the case was far from settled. In fact, it seemed to only be getting worse with no ending in sight. Everyone was continuing to work in hopes that they would be home for the weekend. The fourth day, though, seemed to be the worst. The killer was getting more spontaneous with their kills, and the team seemed to keep showing up minutes after the kill had occurred. You were running on little to no sleep and were getting more frustrated with each move the killer made in silence. Near the end of the day, as you stared aimlessly at the wall in front of you, hoping it would make some sort of answer appear in front of your eyes, Hotch put a hand on your shoulder, You jumped slightly, trance be gone, when he told you to get back to the hotel immediately.

Immediately, you persisted. “I’m fine. I’ve almost got something. I’m sure of something.”

“I’m not asking you.”

“Hotch—”

“I’m ordering you, not only as your boss, but mostly as your friend. Your dark circles are getting concerning.” You tried to budge once more, but as Hotch gave one of his stern glares, you knew you were done with work for the day. “I’ll get someone to drive you back. Wait here.”

Within seconds, Spencer appeared, replacing the previous figure of Hotch. Gently tapping your shoulder, he signaled for you to get up. With a flick of a wrist and a soft grin, he spun around a set of keys around his fingers. “Hotch is letting me drive.”

You smiled. “Don’t want Morgan to ‘vibe it?’”

“His definition of ‘vibing it’ is just turning on the sirens when he doesn’t want to stop at a red light.” You walked side by side to the car. Your shoulders brushed ever so slightly due to Spencer’s hands in his pockets, but you didn’t mind. You welcomed the warmth.

“Your definition is turning the volume up to 13 and calling it loud.”

“I would like to be able to hear when I’m old, thank you very much. Any decibel over eighty and poof. Hearing. Out the window.”

“I really don’t think playing Queen at any volume above 13 will kill you, Spence.”

“You never know, honey.” Spencer opened the door for you, ushering you in before closing the door and getting in on the driver’s side. He pulled a cassette tape from his bag and pushed it in the radio; it started to softly play Queen while Spencer messed with the volume, setting it at 13 before driving away. It made a soft smile appear on your lips as your head leaned against the cool glass. Between the constant, soothing movement of the car or the way Spencer’s lips mouthed the lyrics of Good Old Fashioned Boy, it was hard to tell when the lines blurred and sleep drifted you away. The only thing you recognized before falling asleep were the unmistakable words that left Spencer’s mouth.

“Good night, honey. Love you.”

You woke up with a start the next morning. You had no idea how you got back into your hotel room, or how you were wearing your favorite sports shirt that you find comfort in sleeping in all of these years, though your mind directed each question back to the same person, of course. Your mind wandered to the night before; it was the most relaxed you had been all week, even if it was just the simple act of driving with Spencer. You had done it before in past cases —even driven him back to his hotel at times— but this time felt different. Maybe it was the words that left his mouth.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” Spencer suddenly walked in, holding bags in his arms. He set them down on the table, pulling out various assortments of breakfast foods and handing them to you. “No bagel shops around here, but I did find some good pancakes if you want to eat now.”

“Spence.” You suddenly sat up straight, as if a revelation hit you.

“What? No pancakes? It came with hashbrowns, too.”

“Spencer.” You emphasized, getting him to look at you.

“Yeah?”

“Why do you do all of this for me?”

“What?” His head cocked to the side, not understanding.

“Why do you… I mean… you go out of your way to do things for me. Unnecessary things. I need to know why.”

“Unnecessary…?”

“You… you leave me flowers that are like, hand picked from a garden or the forest, or something not from the city. You clean my desk for me when I’ve left it too messy. You make me my favorite tea when I’m at the office too late. You write me notes that are alluding but you won’t say what. I mean, Spence, you get me my favorite bagel every Tuesday. Why?”

His face suddenly turned serious as he sat next to you on the bed. “You want to know why?” He repeated.

“I know you do these things for the rest of our team, but I just, I just don’t get it.”

“Because I’m in love with you.” Spencer stared at you. “I’ve been in love with you. I think I’ll always be at least a little in love with you, if I’m being honest. I thought you’d catch on by now.”

“…What?”

“Yeah, honey. I thought I was pretty obvious.”

“So you meant what you said last night, then?” You said softly.

“I didn’t mean for you to hear that. Really. I would’ve said it better if I had known you were awake.”

“But I did.” Your face grew closer to his. “And I’m not upset about it. Because I’m in love with you, too.”

Just as your lips began to brush, Spencer began to smile. “You know what day it is, honey? It’s our day.”

You smiled, too. “Happy Tuesday.”

You both tried to be subtle about it for the rest of the case. Weeks had passed by without the team knowing, but one slip up of a kiss on the cheek from Spencer on a Tuesday morning had led to an entire office full of chaos (and a meeting on workplace romance and consent from Hotch). You two didn’t mind, though. It was bound to happen. Until Penelope turned to Morgan and yelled at him to cough up the fifty dollars he owed her, of course.

Happy Tuesday.

[harrywavycurly]

Summary: You’re moving into your first apartment after graduating college and you use a moving service your friend recommended. Not really expecting much of the company with a name like “College Hunks Hauling Junk” you take extra care to box your things up really well. But no amount of bubble wrap can keep the cocky, snarky, semi retired frat bro Harry Styles from damaging a few of your boxes which leads to him learning the hard way that sometimes he’s going to have to handle things with a little more care than he’s used to. 📦✨

Pairing: frat!Harry x fem!reader

Trope: Grumpy x sunshine

CW: Frat Harry (some people really aren’t into this lol), language, tiny bit of angst, one drunken moment

Story Type: Mini Series (5 parts)

A/N: This is gonna be a whirlwind of an emotional roller coaster for Harry from the very start so if you’re into that then this is the story for you! ✨

Status: Completed ✨

Tag List: Open

Extras: here

Highly Recommended

This Can’t Be Happening

Are You Okay?

Sunshine and Citrus

What Have You Heard?

[suhtorus]

crybaby. gojo satoru

fluff‐parents au. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ non sorcerers au, slice of life, mom!reader, unnamed eight-month-old baby girl, mentions of needles and vaccines

little sunshines au

two pairs of blue eyes stare at each other (one of them is already brimming with unshed tears).

"satoru, you can't be serious."

"she has no idea!"

your eight-month-old grins at her dad, blissfully unaware of what's happening while he dreads what's about to come.

the nurse side-eyes him but says nothing besides instructing him on how to hold her hands so they won't get in the way and accidentally hurt her.

"oh god." he whispers, staring up at the ceiling and forcing himself to ignore the baby's babbles. "i can't watch this."

funny, you think. because all these years, he seemed just fine with holding your boys as they got their shots. even going as far as encouraging them with promises of gifts and ice cream after braving through the pain.

but now, god forbid someone—or rather, something, like a vaccine—hurt his princess.

you snicker behind your hand at his worried face while he bounces his leg in anxiousness, murmuring to himself as he stares at the ceiling.

and that must've been the last straw.

"sir, don't ever get your eyes off of your child."

satoru quickly turns his head towards the nurse, eyes wide as if he just got caught committing a crime, but he's met with their blank stare.

"you have to make sure i administer the vaccine correctly." the nurse continues, lecturing your husband—respectfully, of course.

his jaw opens, but nothing comes out, closing it again when he realizes his mistake. his eyes move down to watch your baby, still smiley and babbling nonsense.

a small smile grows on his lips as he carefully maneuvers her little hands in his, and a similar one appears on your face as you watch the interaction.

"I got you." he murmurs while briefly making eye contact with the needle going in her tiny arm. he grimaces, and the baby tenses up after a second, her eyes never leaving satoru's. "you're so brave, my little mochi. papa is so proud of you."

he coos and keeps whispering sweet things as the baby starts to cry, her face red and eyes screwed shut. satoru's tearing up too, but he doesn't seem to realize or simply doesn't care because he continues on comforting your daughter.

once the nurse has placed a little bandaid on the baby's arm, they hand out a lollipop to satoru.

"let's go home, my two babies." you kiss your daughter's cheek, before smiling at your husband.

and once you return to the comfort of your home, you spend the afternoon watching over them, father and daughter deeply asleep and with matching blotched faces.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Maybe Spencer is having a bad BAD day, full on ptsd, and sunshine!reader is trying hard to cheer him up. It gets to a point where Spmcer just snaps and says something mean and starts a fight

Spencer can feel the bars around him. He feels trapped in his own mind because he can see that he isn’t in prison anymore, but his brain has been conjuring these vivid dreams of him being back and of Shaw sending men to beat him up.

Every night, the dreams end with Spencer never being found not guilty and him having to spend five years in prison and his eventual death from Shaw’s men.

He’s gasping and shaking and there’s a sweat spot on his sheets. He apologises every morning, you tell him it’s okay and that you’re here to talk. He never wants to talk about it and you never push.

He doesn’t sleep the rest of the night and it makes him irritable.

When he comes into work, you try not to internalise the way he brushes you out of his path as he beelines for the coffee pot.

“I already put your cup on your desk. With breakfast.” You try to temper your cheeriness when you notice the way his shoulders tense.

Spencer wants to be grateful, but all he can think is, ‘I can do it myself. I can take care of myself.’

He doesn’t say anything, not a quiet thanks, not even a half smile.

Your nerves are frayed immediately.

You don’t know what Spencer experienced in prison, he’s told you bits and pieces, the nicer parts of living in a 4 x 4.

Yet, you know the signs of PTSD and as the day drags on, you’re almost certain Spencer’s having a rough go of things.

He’s been snappy with Luke, nice with Penelope, and then flippant with you all over again. It’s hard not to feel like nothing you do is helping.

“We could go out to get lunch. From the place you like, the burger joint.” Spencer’s been slipping in and out of this conversation and the longer he hears your sweet voice, the more it sounds like chalk grating a blackboard.

At his silence, “Or we could order in? Whatever helps, Spence.”

Suddenly, his coffee cup is shattering in the wall behind your head and Spencer’s chest is racing. “Stop!” You feel hot tears prick behind your eyes at being yelled at; at work no less.

“It would help if you weren’t fucking hovering all the damn time. I can take care of myself, I don’t need your help. As a matter of fact, I don’t want your help. Go find someone else to be happy go lucky with, some of us can’t stand it.”

Your breath hitches, you’ve never heard Spencer speak with such venom. You reach a hand to your cheek pulling it away to find blood on your fingertips. Spencer must see it too because he’s on his feet, reaching for you as you step away from his outstretched hands.

You try to remind yourself that he’s just reeling, that he’s been having a rough couple of nights, that this will pass and that you don’t need to be mean to him too. “Fuck you Spencer.” The words are out of you before you can think about it much more. It’s honestly the nicest thing you could muster right now, embarrassment and defeat hot in your chest.

Emily and Matt rush in, finding Spencer tugging at his hair. Emily sighs as she sees the broken mug, Matt sighs as he notes your missing presence.

“Fucking stupid.” Spencer murmurs to himself, pushing back his chair, digging around in his desk for a first aid kit. “I’ll come back and clean it up,” no one is really listening. Emily will do this for him while he cleans up his other mess.

Spencer finds you in the bathroom with Penelope cleaning the little shards from your hair and cheek.

She glares at him and Spencer feels even worse; to top it off you don’t even look at him, just at his shoes.

“I’ll finish it, Garcia.” She stills, not knowing what to do. As she looks at you, you give her a little nod and she leaves, rubbing your back as she goes.

Spencer doesn’t approach you for some time, standing there like you’re the one who exploded and he’s waiting for another shout.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, taking up the tweezers Penelope left behind and reaching for your cheek. Spencer cradles your face gently as he picks the shards out. “I shouldn’t have thrown the mug, or said any of what I said.”

You don’t say anything, letting him continue. “You don’t hover, and I love that you’re always smiling and happy. It’s not an excuse but my dreams are really getting to me, but I shouldn’t have taken that out on you.”

You offer Spencer your other hand. You weigh your words, “No you shouldn’t have. I understand that some of what happened while you were in prison is too hard to talk about, but you need to talk to someone Spencer. You can’t just throw things and scream and then shut people out.”

He nods, “Luke recommended me to a psychiatrist for people suffering from PTSD, but I guess I felt like going would be me admitting that things there got to me.”

You sigh, “I’m not sure if I can do this if you’re going to shut me out and be violent like that.” At Spencer’s panicked eyes you continue. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me on purpose, but this unchecked shit is going to. Whether you mean for it to or not.”

Spencer opens the first aid kit and swipes at your cheek gently, grateful that it hadn’t been a deep cut. Still he knows the silver scar it’s going to leave will eat at him forever.

“I made an appointment for tomorrow at nine.” He mumbles, worry and dread eating at his stomach. “I know it might take a bit for you to trust me again-“

You roll your eyes, “I do trust you. I trust that you’ll go to therapy, use all the tools given to you and cue me in when things are too hard. I trust that you won’t do this again Spencer. I’m not going to punish you for having an off day.”

Tears spring to his eyes unconsciously, “You don’t want to leave? Because I’d understand if you wanted to.”

You kiss his wrist, “No I don’t want to. I know you’re going to get better, but if there’s a next time, Spencer I’m not staying.”

“There won’t be a next time, I swear.” He kisses right under your injured cheek, tender and soft.